New Horizon
by Valse De La Luna
Summary: EOW Four years after the tragedy at the Opera Populaire, Erik finds himself re-living the past in a renovated opera.
1. Default Chapter

**Prologue**

**Erik 1870**

A deep and harsh chill had settled about the room. The voices and cries had silenced long ago, only the small cackling of a distant fire remained. I remember sitting, huddled in the far back of the tiny passage way, listening to each different tone. Some were deep and clear, others of a softer quality, but all were a threat to me in my present situation. I could have retreated further back into the inky darkness, letting it shroud me from prying eyes, but I remained where I was, hoping to hear her.

The delicate, low voice that could warm any frozen heart, so gentle a bell like peal coming from her rosy lips, _Christine._ I sat and waited, clutching the small blue diamond ring in my numb hands, rolling it about, remembering her fingers lightly caressing mine as she placed it there. Oh God what had I done? Why? _Why hadn't I let only that simpering boy go?_ She might still have been here with me, but I couldn't push her tear filled eyes from my mind. The brown orbs normally so full of life, had been smothered with desperation. Her shuddering breaths as she silently pleaded with me caused my heart to constrict painfully. Clutching at my shirt I wept, tears rolling down my scarred face, the face of a demon. _I am a monster. _I couldn't stop the words from filling every inch of my being.

I shifted my weight and a small crunch caused me to look down. A million deformations stared cruelly back, I was lost in a sea of terror. The raw red skin of my face seemed to burn as gazed at my own reflection. I slowly picked a sharp shard of glass up off the stone floor, running my fingers over the razor sharp edge, my heart pounding in my ears. _I could end it now._ Just one small slice across my neck or wrist. I was dying anyhow, my vital organs seemed to be slowing every second, and my fragile heart, so covered in scars, felt near to bursting. Taking a shuddering breath I placed the tip against my skin, letting the point sink dangerously in, just a few more seconds and it all would be over. I closed my eyes, swallowing thickly, I remained there, simply sitting with the deadly shard at my veins for what seemed an eternity. With a low growl I threw the glass as far as I could, listening for it's light shatter. I buried my face in my hands, the parchment like skin of the right side of my face cutting deeper then any blade could ever hope to. Even now I couldn't bring myself to end it, my body still wanted life. _But for what? What did I have to live for? _


	2. A New Opera House

**Alrighty then here we go. I don't own Phantom in any of it's forms, so please, don't sue me, all you will get is crumbly cookies and some pocket lent. My main insperation for this has been the current Phantom of the Opera movie as well as the Kay and musical versions. And now...on with the show.**

**Chapter 1**

Boards and tarp were put up on the large building afer the fires had been calmed. But the devilish red tongues of heat had destroyed much of the right side of the once beautiful Opera Populaire. Now only a lifeless shell of plaster and melted and marred metal remained, but the left looked almost untouched, with the exception of the long black lines of ash that wrapped about the whole building like the very claws of death. Inside the broken glass doors, clinging to twisted hinges, the rest of the silent building seemed to brood. Busted windows let in sunlight that crept across the dust and debris riddled marble floors and only a few humans would venture in from time to time, often only doves or stray cats would call the abandoned opera home.

People who passed by on the busy street from time to time would gaze up at the sad sight, commenting about how the whole place seemed to be waiting for something to come along and put things back to the way they once were. But to most the days of the operas glory were over, and the dust and cobwebs grew. No one seemed to remember the tales that once circled the famous disaster that fateful night, the night when Christine Daae had been abducted during the first act of a new opera. Only a few kept the memories fresh, mainly to earn a few francs from tourists in Paris who had heard rumor of the silent building and wanted to know of the occurrences of that fateful day in 1870. No one thought that anything would come from the musty shell of a building. But fate it seemed had other plans for this rotting landmark.

**Erik 1873**

The years passed by so slowly. I sat down in this hell that I called home doing absolutely nothing. In the past music had been there to pass the time, I often sat for hours, days, weeks at a time simply scratching in notes on the bars of paper, ignoring hunger, exhaustion, and even my loneliness. Or I would travel to the world above the layers of concrete and stone, to a world filled with life and light. No matter how misplaced I was up there I still found myself drawn to the simple pleasure of just watching others play out their own dramas, wishing so desperately that I could just walk down and join in. To be a normal man. But a simple glance at my reflection in the clear, cold lake told me otherwise. I had been shunned for as long as I could remember, I could still see my mother, a beautiful, untouchable being, gazing at me coldly every time I walked into the her presence, her eyes flashing in fear and apprehension. The small piece of leather that wound its way over my face, hiding me, protecting me she said. Every moment it seemed she checked and checked that the strings that held it to my face had not come loose. For awhile I had believed her when she said she wanted to keep me all to herself, that I was too precious for anyone else to see. Though she never told me she loved me, or held me in her arms, I pretended that she did. I once used to dream that she kissed my forehead and cuddled me in her warm embrace when I was frightened, but as I got older they slowly faded into the darkness.

I loved the dark. It held me as nothing else ever could; promised me that it would protect me, and yet I had betrayed it so many times. I longed so deeply for the light, for a utopia of my own, filled with the soft caressing sun, no shadows to cover me. Yet I always came back to the simple black filled life I had been forced to live. But I still fought with my chains, I still went up to the now empty world above.

The passages and tunnels under the opera had hardly been touched by the fire, only a few were rendered useless to me, but I had thankfully installed several doors and two way mirrors in many of the rooms about the place so their loss was hardly noted. I had dutifully checked most of them soon after the chaos by my hand had subsided. The only main entry to the underground layer of the opera house that had been damaged was the one in the middle of the staircase in the main hallway. The circular trapdoor had collapsed on one side, rather dangerous for someone who wasn't watching where they were going and would create a sense of curiosity for those who happened upon it, leading them straight to me. I had no doubt that the mob who had so rudely intruded my home that night had something to do with it's sad shape. After all I had installed the deadly trap when I first came to live here, and my workmanship was not something that randomly fell into disrepair.

That early morning, just as the sun was rising over the shattered windows and silky cobwebs I set about fixing the triangular iron flaps that closed over the trapdoor. The two that were the most damaged lay in a crumpled mess of green and silver, they looked as if they had been smashed with a heavy object, for the dents in their sides ran deep in the metal. Pulling off my now tattered and stained black leather gloves I tenderly lifted one up to it's full height, surveying the damage. Aside from the deep cracks the pieces seemed fixable. Sitting there among the silence of the once populated opera house I felt more alone then I had in months. Often I would sit up in the rafters gazing out across the now empty stage, imagining her standing there. Her long brown hair, her glowing eyes, the little smile that graced her face as she raised her voice to the ceiling, the echoes shaking me to my very soul. My hands stilled on the trapdoor lost in memories.

Everywhere I looked now days I saw her. I had never stopped hating myself for tricking her so. Distorting her fantasy filled head, bending her will to mine. I can still see her, a small child, not much younger then my seventeen years at the time. She was crying, her round face red with her sorrow, she kept saying one thing over and over. _Angel of Music. _My cold heart, which had been still for so long began to beat again, a low thud resonating in my mind. I sang to her then, my voice light and warm, I used the only thing I could call beautiful in my twisted existence, my voice. She stopped weeping, her light brown eyes widening, she called to me softly, her gentle words almost missed my ears. _Angel I hear you. Papa promised that you would come. _She smiled, her whole face lighting with the sheer radiance of that simple act. Peering at her from behind the vent I nearly moaned at the gesture. No one had ever given me such a look, no one had ever smiled so sweetly because of me. I decided then, my heart acting on this one chance for a normal life, this one chance for me to make a friend.

I came to her every night, and I kept a silent vigil over her during the day, gazing at her train in the operas ballet, seeing her befriend some of the younger girls, watching her live, while I rotted slowly in my darkness. The fist time I heard her sing, a simple melody late one night as she prepared her bed, I knew that she had potential. And that with my help she would become one of the greatest singers in all of Paris. Oh how I had fed my mind with her glorious triumph, to know that something that I alone could perfect would soar to new heights and amaze all. Perhaps it was my vanity in her, or my mistake of watching her grow from the gawky girl who tumbled about the stage, to the graceful, elegant woman that the fates made her over time. I do not know exactly when she became more then someone who I could talk to, someone who made me forget my loneliness, but one day I felt a stirring in my heart. It was small, but oh, how it grew over time. Soon simple acts that she made caused my inexperienced heart to pound, my body grow tense with un-named feelings. _Oh Christine._

I sat back on my heels, cursing myself for being so weak with need for someone who was not going to return, no matter how I wished she would. Running a hand over my mask and hair I rose, laying the panel down on the marble of the floor. I surveyed what little work I had gotten done, the only evidence that I had fiddled with it on one smooth side, while the other lay jagged and bent. Sighing softly I began to make my way up the steps, my boots causing the layers of dust to rise and swirl about in the shafts of light, creating a soft dance with air and golden rays. As I made my way to the oak doors that led one into the auditorium I mentally made a list of the supplies that I would be needing soon. The spring had begun to fade into the fall and I felt a need to re-stock what little I had saved over the summer. I had lived for the past four years on the money that was given to me by my previous managers, an allowance of 20,000 francs that I received monthly and had protectively saved for the past eight years had served me well after the opera was shut down. Soon after the final performance I had snuck out into the streets of Paris stealing what I could and purchasing what I could not. I entered the doors, shutting them firmly behind me, as I turned in the darkened room my eyes roved over the empty velvet lined seats that ran down the small incline in rows. There in the middle of such order it lay. The twisted and broken chandelier, it was resting in the middle of the opera, a heart that had been torn from it's place and cast offhandedly aside. I pulled my eyes form it and glanced up at the gilded ceiling, studying the paintings and brace where the fallen chandelier once hung proudly. Below it the boxes were silent, and the stage was brooding in the chaos of it all. I smirked softly, if anything was dissatisfied with how the current situation had turned out it was the stage. It seemed to glare at all who came near, resentful of the harsh punishment that had been placed upon it, and it despised me most of all. Though I still climbed up into the flies from time to time I never felt as comfortable there as I once did, for now the harsh shadows seemed to shun my very presence.

I silently made my way to the hidden door beside the right wings of the stage. Passing the red seats, the quiet cooing from the doves who had decided to nest in the upper rafter was the only sound, but it echoed about in the empty space. Large overlapping shadows hovered about as I passed under the small doorway and I glanced about before I walked in, a habit I had made from the years I had spent sneaking about, always casting about for people that I might bump into. Even now, when I knew that no one was there I still found the task a hard one to break myself of. Once inside I took the small winding stairway up to the top level. I hadn't ventured up here in months and I wanted to visit one of my favorite haunts in the days before I had buried myself in self-hate and pity of that fateful night. Perhaps it will take my mind off the past, off the horrible memories of my mother and Christine. My hand gripped at the iron railing, something that I hadn't had to do the last time I had come up these stairs. I felt older suddenly, as if the ages had suddenly crept up on me and I became smaller, weaker then I was only a few moments before. Then the steps stopped, I looked up and saw the small window above the chains that once held the mighty chandelier. They were covered in a healthy layer of dust and cobwebs as was everything else, but they shook and danced about in an strange wind, the low creaking mournful to my ears. I pulled one of the chains to a halt in its strange unseen path, the cold metal a shock to my warm hands. I hooked it back it place and did the same for the others, all that was missing was the gem of the opera, the shining star that I had made come crashing down. But the rusty links seemed content once more and I passed on, opening another door that led out into the backstage area.

I soon found myself standing on one of the many flies, scaling from one to the other with perfect grace. As I reached out for each rope I made myself throw caution into the winds and picked up my speed till I knew I would be little more then a blur to anyone else. But my firm grip was never off, I knew these fragile wooden planks suspended in mid-air better then anyone, and I pressed on. My cape swirled about me, the soft black and velvet lining spreading out like wings, my boots clicking on each landing. Soon I was heaving for breath and I pulled myself over to the small staircase that lead further backstage. The darkness was deeper here, not even a candle to cast a small patch of light, but my eyes could make out everything. I carefully sidestepped several fallen backdrop, recalling the many times I had let one loose on the opera diva, La Carlotta, when her shrieking, wavering voice had become all too strained on my ears. My feet moved with out my mind to guide them, retracing paths from habit, but I knew where they were leading me, and I found myself powerless to stop them in their flight.

All too soon I stood by the mahogany frame, the door had been ripped off long ago by the stampede of panicked opera goers and stage hands, inside a single mirror gleamed. Wilted flowers, most only brown stems waved me in, I could see her. She sat in the chair by the dresser, a spot that she had chosen to wait for my nightly lessons at, she was pulling absently at a black ribbon on a blood red rose, a token of my delight in her first performance. Sighing I took another hesitant step toward her, her head rose, eyes bright with joy, a smile pulling its way across her perfect face. _Raoul. _It was the only word she had uttered to that golden haired vicomte, the boy that she had known from her childhood, but looking at her features I could tell that he meant something more to her. I halted suddenly, upsetting a small table by the door. She was gone, the vanity seat was empty, and I was alone in a dark room.

With a roar I threw open the two way mirror, slamming it shut so hard the glass threatened to smash into a thousand pieces. I gritted my teeth as I made my way down the endless passageways till I came to the cellar where my small boat was resting. The plush black velvet sat tattered and marred by the steady march of time, I hadn't used it since she sat against the pillows, rasing her voice in song, or simply talking, but that was when she had believed me to be her Angel of Music, but a demon cannot be an ethereal being for long with out being discovered.

I leapt lightly into the boat, picking up the pole from where it rested against the wall, and slowly rowed myself forward. The sloshing water helped to clear my fogged senses, and I pushed my thoughts to what I would need to do for the time being. The trapdoor would have to be fixed, I could not let over curious Parisians who ventured past the front doors to come into my home, and there was also the issue of food and clothing. I peered down at my ragged gloves and suit, the black had begun to turn grey and my cloak was ripped in many places. Even though I lived in a hell from which I could not escape I still felt the need to look my best, it was almost like I dressed well to make up for my other lacking features. The small boat soon scraped the cold cavern of my home carved from concrete and rock. Candles flickered, their smoke giving off a rich musty smell that I found comforting and relaxing. My organ sat up a bit from the lake, and I quietly made my way up the crudely cut out steps to it, resting my gloved hands lovingly on the keys. I hadn't played in years, I had never felt the urge to do so, for my spirit was no longer in my work. I lightly put pressure on the white keys, electing a small lullaby from the pipes, it grew louder and more powerful as I went on, and soon it was no longer a light and sweet melody but a harsh groaning cry. Closing my eyes I let my rage flow on to the helpless instrument, pounding harder and harder as I played. This was my drug, this was my escape from my hell, music. Never had something owned me more, never had I needed something with such a force. It had broken me, but it had taught me to live. The notes echoed about, the water in the lake rippling under the sounds, and I let envelop me, let it drown out all else.


	3. Plans

**Special thanks to butlerphan666 for reviewing. Bakes large batch of cookies**

**Chapter 2**

The trapdoor had been fixed by that night. I rose from the organ hours later, my whole body in a daze, covered in a fine sheen of sweat, my eyes dulled from exhaustion. I barely remembered stumbling up to the main hall once more. It had been so long since I had given myself so completely to my music, so long since I had become lost in it deep depths of sensuality and harsh tones. I had forgotten even who I was. But after my hazy mind had cleared, everything came rushing back, with a force so powerful I had to give myself something to do. For awhile I had simply paced about the passageways under the opera , but every tunnel carried a memory of her. Soon, I feared that I would go mad when I found myself yet again haphazardly standing behind her mirror, unable to recall how I had even begun to walk in the direction of it. So I ventured upwards once more, ignoring the sinking feeling that always came upon me. Even with no one there I still felt uncomfortable and unwelcome, but the task had to be done. And it would give me something to focus my mind upon.

I rose from my sitting position, covered in grease from the oil that I had applied to the rusty hinges till not even the smallest squeak of protest came from the panel as I laid it down over the massive hole in the floor. I worked with several tapers lit about the steps, their light casting eery shadows on the many statues and hallways that surrounded me. The silence on the streets and in the large building that was built to worship music and laughter un-nerved me, making my movements sharp. The air felt close and stifling, I rolled my shoulders back and glaceed about me. I needed to break this oppressive feeling, but I was unsure if my way of doing it would go un-noticed. Finally, deciding that I didn't care I softly began to sing, an Italian tune that I had learned long ago from listening to one of the many tenors sing for a role in a new production. It was a sad and lonely melody, perfect for my current setting.

_Lasciatemi morire_

_Lasciatemi morie_

My mouth formed the words hesitantly, but soon another side of me was screaming at me to pour myself into the song, to become one with the music. My voice bounced about, growing, becoming something that filled every crevice. Covering the silence, showing my true feelings of loss and despair.

_In cosi dura sorte_

_in cosi gran martire_

As I closed the lament however, my voice softened from the one that was only moments before threatening to shake the dust from the ceiling, to a sound that was almost in-audible.

_Laseiatemi morire_

Taking a shaking breath I activated the trapdoor, the panels sliding downwards with perfect grace, not even the smallest groan coming from the aged hinges. I jumped lightly down into the deep darkness, it's cold arms wrapping themselves about me as I made my way to my home.

I never will regret that I impulsively decided to fix the trapdoor that night, for early the next morning five noblemen stood on the very green and gold panels, looking about the hall.

I silently edged my way to the mirror on the wall by the steps, watching the men walk about on the area that I had so carefully worked on; listening to them talk to one another. It had been ages since I had heard any voice but my own and I hungrily took in every word, paying close attention to the tambour and tone of their voices. They seemed worried however, for they never let themselves talk louder then a low murmur, standing next to one another to make out their conversations. I smirked, knowing that in some way my very memory still had the power to quell others. It was yet another link on my already weighty chain of vanity and sin but I still basked in the thought. A man with a voice like a deep brass pot began to speak, rasing his voice only a little, so the others could hear caught my attention immediately.

"All considering Monsieur Dulic it will only take the better part of what remains of the year to have the right side completely fixed. And as for the dust? Pah! Only a bit of sweeping and polishing and all will be as good as new. And Paris shall have it's great opera house once more."

I blinked and stepped back. _A new opera house? They wished to re-build the Populaire? _Narrowing my eyes, my jaw clinching I pushed myself to the mirror once more, listening to one of the smaller men.

"Yes but surly the costs alone would be too much..."

"The costs? Do my pocketbooks not reach deep enough for you gentlemen? Or is my money simply too new for the likes of the older nobles that abound in this fine city? For I assure you it is the same color as anyone else."

A strained laughter broke out among the men, and I spied the speaker finally, a broad chested man coming up from behind some of the others. From the looks of how things were going he was the man with the most power in the room, no doubt a patron who the existence of this new little project depended upon. His blonde hair was tinted with grey and he wore a fine velvet suit with a ebony silk top hat. His eyes roved about, settling for a moment on one thing then quickly moving on, but there was a strange glint in their brown depths. I sensed danger about this one, and I found myself standing up straighter. _If this was the so-called patron for this pipedream of theirs, then I would be sure to give him hell if he challenged me._

"By no means Monsieur Colbartte, however as a possible patron yourself surely you must be worried about how long it will be before you get a reimbursement in this opera's possible profits?"

_The opera's profits? Oh God. They weren't serious!_

"The end of the year," Colbartte replied pulling out a cigar and lighting the tip, the smoke

curling about him. "The end of the year or you shall receive no more support from me. And we all know that you need the money." He chuckled at their aghast faces and turned his voice dripping with honey, "Come I saw a café across the street. Let us finish up our discussion there."

Apparently the talks and thought of money to line their pocket books worked and these foolhardy men let the renovations begin. Later that same week I found my sanctuary invaded by hundreds of strange men, workers who were not as susceptible to gossip as some. The scaffolding was placed on the right side and I watched as my world was slowly created once more.


	4. Discoveries

**Chapter 3**

The hammers and shouts pounded relentlessly against my head, and the once peaceful silence of a rotting building were sharply pulled to a halt. They worked faster then most did on a building, the shifts continuing long into the night and never ceasing, it became a race for time in this frantic reconstruction. And there was nothing I could do. No matter how hard I tried to scare off the men, only new workers would come in to replace the ones lost.

The second day of the new construction a few men entered the auditorium. It was apparent from their staggering walks and slurred speech that they were drunk. They bellowed into the room, voices and laughter ringing from the rafters. A few began to lift the haggard chandelier while others didn't seem to have the least amount of interest in working at all. I had silently made my way down to one of the lower flies ready too loose a backdrop should one come to near. Though I was wary of this new opera I was also protective of the older one, the opera that I had been raised in. And the stage I felt was my territory, and I ruthlessly guarded it. _Besides_, my mind called, _it's your opera house and they are trespassing. It's their own fault if harm came to them. Did they not know the stories of the ghost?_

When one finally leapt up onto the polished wood of the stage, belting out a disgusting excuse for a voice, a bawdy tune escaping from his mouth, I moved to one of the replaced backdrops. Once he was only a few feet from danger I untied the thick rope that suspended the heavy landscape. I watched as his smile dropped from his face and he threw himself forward, clumsily running off. His comrades also made a hasty exit, some crossing themselves and muttering. Thinking I had seen the last of the workers for the day I pulled myself to one of the higher flies, waiting to hear the screams from outside the room. I was surprised and perturbed to find twelve more workers, these visibly sober, enter and continue on lifting the chandelier.

In a way I wished all of them gone so that I could sink once more into my life of loneliness and mourning. But another part of me buzzed with a new energy, a sense of excitement welling up, enjoying my first taste of human interaction in years. I came to know all two hundred and twenty six of the workers by name, their most private conversations as well as their public ones mine to use as I willed. It was amazing how quickly I had sunk back into my old ways of sneaking about.

Soon the main scaffolding was torn down from the right side and the work began to move toward the interior, fixing rooms and the like. At night I would make minor adjustments of my own. I placed new vents and other devices that would give me access to any new room that was built. I even added a two way mirror in the kitchen. You can imagine how that took with the workers, for who had put in a mirror the size of the wall when no one was looking? But as I began to get use to the idea of a new opera house my desire to reign once more as the un-named manager began to grow once more.

As things finally neared completion winter was at long last releasing Paris from it's powerful hold, a crisp spring breeze blowing from the east, the men who had decided to take on the project returned. They came early one clear morning, puffing out their chests, strutting about like peacocks, except for him. Cabartte did not need to use any means of outward self flattery to command a room, all he had to do was use that slick voice, dripping false words and a hush would come over. He seemed to have the others in the palm of his hand. I had never in my life seen a patron with as much power as he.

"Took less time then we thought eh?" Cabartte replied as he and the others walked about, stepping under scaffolds and new plaster.

"Indeed sir, your plan to have it finished early is working wonderfully." One of the taller men responded, nodding at the workers, yet keeping his full attention on Cabartte. I followed them from one of the upper balconies, my cape furling out behind me as I increased my speed so I could take in their faces as Cabartte talked. I need to know exactly how much power this man had over the others or my plan would not work.

For the last weeks of construction my mind had been turning ways that I could reclaim my position once more. I had decided to use one of the weaker managers to bend to my will. It would be easy enough once I found out his weakness, but from the looks of things Cabartte would be harder to edge by then I had thought.

"A marvelous idea indeed. Perhaps we could have a portrait of yourself in the main hall Monsieur Cabartte? Or at least your name engraved in one of the newer rooms?" This comment was placed forward by the very man whom I would make my first piece my game, he was a sniveling excuse for a man, timid and easily manipulated.

"What an idea! And I'm sure Monsieur De Perix that you will have no issue with a dinner feast? For there is no better way for a patron and his manager to get to know some of the best people in town don't you agree?" Cabartte stopped to look Perix evenly in the eye. I watched as he slowly nodded, knowing then that his pocketbook would have to recover for months until he cold pay off the bill of hosting such a meal. But he would have to suffer on bread and cheap wine if it made this patron content.

"What a splendid idea indeed!" the others chimed, causing Cabartte to move on once more, nodding his approval. They roamed about for another few hours, foolishly acting like they were in charge of the doings. Telling the workers to place that there, move that over here, but the men silently smiled and did as they asked. They knew better then to get on a employers bad side, no matter how stupid the request.

Once they were gone, a few of the men sat close to where I was resting, a book in my hands reclining on one of the many box chairs. I listened absently as their conversations flip flopped about, talking of home and other work opportunities. My ears pricked up when I heard Cabartte's name however, resting the novel on my lap leaning forward.

"That man is the devil. I heard that he got his money by turning people out of their job if they didn't met his standards. They say even that he ran a brothel for a while as well."

"A brothel? Wait I think I remember hearing something about that, the one that used to be in the older part of town yes?" one of the smaller boys chimed in.

"Of course you would know Mourie, they say he used his influence over the nobles and merchants who came in to bribe them out of money. And if he didn't get those nice gold coins, then he took the records to the papers. You can imagine how much they would pay to print such a story." he took a puff on his pipe, blowing small rings to impress the others. "So all you best watch your backs, and I wouldn't hesitate to say that them new managers should as well. If he wants something, he'll stop at nothing to get it."

I leaned back in my chair, calculating what I had just overheard. He would be very hard to maneuver past indeed. A master black mailer? Well I could play that game as well. Once this opera was up and running smoothly I would send a few letters of my own. Chuckling I pushed the panel that would take me to the underground.

A few weeks after the managers payed their visit, I began to note that many of the men were beginning to depart. At fist it was just the younger ones but soon even the skilled workmen began to gather their things and collect their money. I traveled about the newer part more and more, checking and installing new devices, eagerly anticipating to use them on the new staff. One morning I was adjusting a small vent in the extra rooms when I heard a familiar voice. It sounded like a sharp winter wind yet underneath the coldness there was a tempered kindness. _Marie Giry. _I did not stop working on the vent but I moved much slower now. _Why was she back? _I ground my teeth together slowly. _She was the one who lead him to me, and her simpleminded daughter who nearly gave away my hiding place. _She was talking to De Perix at the moment, and there seemed to be some sort of disagreement between the two for her voice rose to an even colder level. I had only heard her speak to one other person like that, myself.

It was after the masque. The night I had appeared to all as the Red Death. I stood there on the marble steps and threatened all of the major players in my little game to get Christine. But when I had nearly killed that nosy boy who had proclaimed love to my angel she had come in and saved him. The wench had even had the audacity to tell him of my past. She had come down to one of the higher entrances and called out to me. She told me that I was only going to lose the only person who had ever cared for me as a friend if I did not cease this plan. She told me I would lose her. And she was right.

I glanced up, slowly standing and began to follow her voice. I owed her my life, for it was she who had saved me from my hell in the circus. She who had trusted me. Me. A murderer. I hated her for what she did to betray me, but I wanted to try and see if she would help me once more. For in the days before she had been my go between the managers. I came to the vent, peering in and seeing her alone I raised my voice.

"Marie?"

She looked around, then fixed her grey eyes on the vent, I saw no emotion there to build on so I remained still, waiting for her to respond.

"Erik, why are you still here. You know it is not safe. What if you are found once more?" she appeared to be genuinely worried for me, but I ignored the friendship in her words.

"No thanks to you this time madam I am certain." I watched as she looked away, shaking her head. She walked about the room, her light graceful steps making little sound on the wood.

"They are hiring me once more. I couldn't believe it when I heard the new of the new opera. It seems so long ago that everything was alive here, but now that they are trying to create a new one I am not so sure that things will be the same. Carlotta will not return,"

I chuckled lightly at her words and she glanced at the vent once more. "I knew that you would see no problem in that arrangement. But your memory here in this building is a hard one to get by. So many have turned down offers, I don't know if this opera will be open for long. They say that they are even hiring out of the country. A family from England is interviewing next week, but no one from Paris will come." she paused again looking at where she knew I stood, wanting to hear my take on the situation.

"What about singers? Surely a new opera in which to make their fortunes in is tempting to some?" I waited on bated breath, wanting to hear that she might be returning.

"No one from Paris." she then took my hint and tried to word her response carefully. "She's living on the other side of town. And according to Meg is quite content in her new life. She will not sing."

I narrowed my eyes, feeling rage grow in me. _After all I have taught her she will not sing! She had the voice that would make the angels weep and she would not let anyone hear._

"She is not singing anywhere else?"

"No Erik. She had made her decision to live a quiet life with her husband," Marie began to pace once more. A habit she did when she was unsure, only I knew that was how she showed her nerves. I heard a small voice call to her from the hall, she looked up and then her eyes wavred to me.

"Please Erik, don't,"

I cut her off sharply, annoyed by her worry. "I won't go near her Marie. But if she dares to show her face here then I will not let her go again. If you see her tell her that."

She nodded and opened the door. I saw her daughter Meg standing outside, her face so much like her mothers, she smiled and wrapped her arm in her mothers, leading her off.

I remained in the room for some time, pondering what Marie had said. Apparently my little show as the Phantom had worked too well. Perhaps this group from England would make some difference.


	5. A New Life

**Chapter 4**

It was late January when we arrived in France. According to our neighbor a wretched time of year to seek employment. In a way I agreed with her. For one could never predict the months that followed late winter,sometimes warmer day might come, letting all think that the biting cold was over; then the skies would turn grey once more and sleet would pour in thick sheets. But we had little choice. The ship that carried us across the slate of the English Channel was nearly empty of passengers besides my step-family, aunt and cousin. I could still remember the December morning when Renee had come into our room, I hanging up the sheets and clothes on a line, as it was raining and misting outside. I had turned to her, my eyes full of question as she sat on the little bed that we shared, there being not enough for five of us to have our own.

"There is a job that is waiting for all of us in Paris." Her normal light tone was darkened with sorrow. She hadn't wanted to leave the home that we had known for nine years. After her mother and my father had been married they had brought this new splattering of two families together. I who had known only my three older brothers all my life was given three new sisters. It hadn't taken me long to become adjusted to this new arrangement. For the new girls were open and friendly towards me. And I soon looked upon them as I would any blood relative. We were a very close and loving family. Then came the accident.

My father and brothers worked at one of the new factories that had been built in Dover to help with the shipping services. They packed textiles and other materials to be sent out to the other countries. No one had foreseen the explosion. I could still hear it. We had been working outside that day, the spring air a pleasant tingle on our skin, laughing and talking. I had turned toward the direction that the factory sat, a sense of uneasiness welling in me. Then as soon as I could see the glimmer of the silver pillars of smoke all had turned a deep shade of orange. The boom that the exploding furnace had let loose had shaken the whole town. Even people five miles away had felt the shudder.

My step-mother and I had walked to the rubble later that day when the lists were being posted. We gripped each others hands so tightly deep scratches made their way across our fingers. We silently read the names. There five down from the last read my father and brothers. I sank to the muddy ground, tears falling silently down my face. I was an orphan. As I sat there the thought coursed through my mind over and over, drowning out the wails of others. Then I glanced up. My step-mother had gotten on her knees beside me, her eyes red and swollen from her own tears. She pulled me into her lap, hushing my whimpers of hurt and confusion. As we wept together I realized that I still had her and my new sisters, I still had a family to whom I could turn. My tears fell harder, but some were now ones of joy and relief, running hot down my face.

That month we were in a state of shock. We stumbled though the days, trying to find a way to forget and continue on living. Then one morning another shock let our broken hearts skip a beat. We were running out of money.

Renee and I applied for every possible job in town and the surrounding areas. We passed ourselves off as maids, governesses, anything that would pay. My step-mother applied also as a cook and head maid. We were given choices, but each required only one of us to leave for the new job. We refused to be split up. Though Renee and I were nearing our twenties, the age when most girls sought marriage, we wanted to remain with our family. For the shock of the disaster had made all of us adverse to be separated. We needed things to remain the same for a few more months as we tried to cope. One day I decided to apply for all five of us out of the country. I was surprised when a letter arrived back, saying that we could all be considered at the same place. And now Renee sat on a bed, looking up at me with an un readable expression. Being so close to each other I felt that we had a knack for reading the others emotions at any time. But that morning I could get nothing but hazy thoughts from her.

The days swept by quickly. We packed most of our belongings in the early days of December. Many in the town were wary of us leaving to France. Our nosy neighbor, trying to in her mind help, only made things worse for us. She often would pull either my step-mother or one of us girls aside to tell us that she would refuse to let anyone buy our home, as we were bound to come back in a few months time as it was; and she didn't want to see us begging on the streets. Each time we tried to dissuade her she would shake her head all the harder and reply that we would thank her later.

We left a few days before we were expected to show up for our interview at the new Opera house. I had cried the whole way across the Channel. Often Renee would stand by me and tell what she remembered of France, the country of her and her sisters birth. But when she saw that my silent shudders were not growing less, she would leave to take care of Sophie, her youngest sister, who was ill with the shifting of the sea. I knew I should be in there helping as well, but I couldn't take my eyes off of my own country. I watched as it sank into the mists the green rolling fields becoming blue as the ship cut through the choppy waters. I remained where I stood, coming in only to sleep then rising the next morning to look back. When the ship touched the shores of France I turned slowly. In front of me rose large buildings, the same kind that we had in England. But the voices that came from the streets were in a different tongue, one that I knew as well as my own, but the change was still unsettling.

As we pulled our heavy trunks across the cobble stoned streets to the waiting carriage that would carry us the fifty miles inland to Paris I gazed about me. Only when I felt a sharp jab in my side from Renee did I pull myself up into the door of the carriage. On the way there my aunt and cousin talked incessantly. My aunt was a large woman who thought the world should revolve around she and her simpleminded daughter Aloysia. She was full of plots to marry each of us off to a nobleman or a prince from a distant land, and the people she associated herself with did little to quell this habit. She had decided to come with us to apply for this new job also only a few days before we were to leave, insisting that she must come for her pocketbook had also run low. Though my step-mother tried to talk her out of this idea, knowing that she and Aloysia would no more work then the sun would set during the day. But Aunt Maria had also lost her husband in the factory explosion and we understood the confusion that she and her daughter must be going through so we reluctantly let them join us.

"My dear Elizabeth, you must buy a new dress the moment we reach Paris. Yours is not fit for a dog to be seen in! Look at the stains on the front, and the print has faded horribly. And your cheeks are horridly flushed, making you look no better then a maid in the fields. For you never were as lovely as my dear Aloysia but I don't think that you try to make that face of yours any prettier. For now you look quite plain and uncomely."

I looked up as Aunt Maria called my name, pulling me out of my thoughts. "This is merely a traveling dress, dear aunt, for I saw no need to impress the coachman or the captain of the ship. I will, I assure you, change before I have my interview tomorrow morning. And as for my face, I hate to be the one to inform you, but my new job shall undoubtably be that of a maid."

"There is no need for that cheeky mouth of yours Eliza. I was simply stating my concern." Aunt Marie huffed back, narrowing her eyes to slits in her chubby face.

"Your concern is taken, but do try to keep it to yourself next time." I snapped back. She had been complaining about me the whole trip. First it was how I carried myself then how my nose was too small, then too big, my eyes too deep a shade of green, my hair to frizzy, then my voice unpleasant to listen to, and I was sick to death of her endless complaining.

"Mother is only trying to give you the best advice. And I think Aunt Jacqueline that your daughters could use a bit of rogue to tint their pale cheeks, especially Sophie and Madeline." Aloysia replied, twirling her golden hair about on her finger, her blue eyes peering at us as coldly as her mother had.

"Mother won't let us wear rogue you know that Aloysia, and Madeline doesn't want attention brought upon herself." Sophie called back, pulling her twelve year old body up in the seat, her deep yellow ringlets bouncing about.

"Hush please. Sophie sit back dear and do try not to start a fight." My step-mother Jacqueline replied flashing all of us a deadly look to keep our mouths quiet. The rest of the trip was made in silence, which was only broken with Aunt Marie's heavy sighs and Aloysia's smacking on her candies.

The building that the carriage pulled us up to was simply breathtaking, I found myself having trouble keeping my gaping mouth closed. The marble was a slick white with swirls of deep black, the gargoyles and angels that adorned every corner peered down kindly at us, inviting us inside. Once my trunk was hauled down from the top I lugged it up the smooth steps to the beautifully carved polished doors.

"Do you think that we'll be good enough to work here Eliza?"

I turned to see Madeline standing beside me. Her smooth brown hair was pulled back from her pale face, deep eyes searching in the glass of the door. She hadn't spoken for the past few days being painfully shy of people that she didn't know and I was touched that she had decided to speak now, as her thoughts were worth gold.

"I hope so dear. I know for sure that they will at least give us a chance. And as for you, well they'd be foolish not hire you, for all will do well from you and mother's cooking." I replied smiling as a small blush crept along her face a small smile lighting her lips.

"I hope that we aren't split up. I would miss you all too much." she quietly stated, taking my hand. I hugged her to me, and I pushed open the doors. We both gasped.

The sheer beauty of the hall was enough to take ones breath away. The deep reds, yellows and greens blended perfectly and enveloped the mind. The sweeping stairways and figures glowed in the gas lights. This was a paradise on earth and for the first time since the accident I felt my soul grow light, a heavy weight pulled from my shoulders. The others clustered in as well, even Aunt Marie and Aloysia stopped ranting about having to carry there own bags to take in the room. We were just beginning to get our wits about us when a woman with deep a black and gold bodice called to us.

"Are you the Brett family?" She sounded harsh and I noted that Madeline edge closer to me, slowly linking her arm with mine. I felt a surge of protectiveness wash over me and I raised my chin studying the woman as throughly as she was doing to us. As her eyes swept over each person she paused at Madeline and I. She must have noted my younger step-sisters distress for she softened her face, her lips curling in a stern smile.

"We are the Brett family," my step-mother replied, her voice a kind one compared to the woman on the steps, who nodded but glanced at my aunt and cousin.

"And they are," she asked, looking down her nose at them, pulling herself up on a deep brown cane.

"We madam, are the Masons. And who are you? For I don't like the fact that you are giving yourself airs over us. You don't know how noble our blood is so..." Aunt Marie was cut of by the woman who softened her voice, a deadly sound that frightened more then a yell could.

"Forgive me. You rooms are this way."

We followed her through a small door up the stairs that led into the back rooms of the opera house. Here instead of gilded furnishings, wooden planks and suspended beams greeted us. Though it was much more homeier then the other rooms I felt more at ease here in the darker and cheaper corridors. She led my step-mother, Sophie and Madeline, who was reluctant to let go of my arm, down a lighter passageway, telling us to remain here. I looked about studying all of the crannies, I was just beginning to run my eyes along a series of upper passageways when I soft rustling caught my ears. I turned to the right and caught a faint shift of light, but it was shining brightly again as soon as rested my gaze on it.

"Did you see something my dear?" the cold voice asked at my side. Whirling about I found myself looking into her grey eyes. I gazed into them for a moment, but not being able to pick up any emotion I lowered my own.

"I...I'm not sure..." I mentally kicked myself for stuttering, something that I never did, no matter how flustered I became.

She nodded and led us forward once more, weaving in and out of corridors, _How in the world was I to find my way about this labyrinth? _She halted once more opening a door to a small room with a rather large vent at the back.

"You are to sleep here. On the walls are the boxes that will tell you where we need you if someone happens to ring."

I swallowed and hesitantly made my way in, the room was not lit and deep shadows lingered about. When I turned to ask if I was to do anything that day I found that the others were gone. Sighing I hauled my trunk in, sitting it on the bed, opening the flap and pulling out a small box of matches. I walked slowly over to one of the many candelabras in the room, pulling the match across an uneven surface on the wall, the tip glowing softly with the bright glow of fire. I put it to a wick watching as the small flame divided itself and leapt carelessly over. I gazed into the dancing orange and yellow then moved on to lighting the others. Soon the little room was no longer filled with oppressive shadows, but bright pools of light. Smiling softly I moved back to my bed pulling dresses and other things out of the deep trunk, setting them about in the room, creating a space that was all my own. I hummed softly as I arranged my closet and placed pictures and other things about the room. I liked having my own room for it gave me a sense of privacy that I had not had in our little home in Dover. As I set a small clock upon my night stand I decided that I would try to find my way down to the kitchens where my step-mother was no doubt fixing our evening meal after I had set up my room.

Shutting the small wooden door firmly behind me, I moved down the dark hall. Pressing my lips together I tried to recall which one I had been led up. _Well Eliza, _I thought, _if you are indeed to become a maid in this opera house it is better if you have some idea of where you are going. _I followed the right corridor, and came out onto a broad wooden surface. Only a few of the gas lights at the bottom of the stage were lit, but the chandelier shone brightly illuminating the plush red seats and balconies. I hesitantly took a step out even that small move echoing across the space, and I made my tread softer. Coming to one of the curtains I ran my hand along the red and gold lining then made my way to the edge, peering out into the seats. _This is what it feels like to be a singer. To be in the sight of all who are here. _I hummed once more, slowly making my way off down a small flight of steps on the side. I came to the main exit and found myself in the main hall once more. With a low sigh I sat on the marble steps, I needed to learn this opera house or I wouldn't last one day as a maid. Standing, I brushed off my skirts and decided to try once more, as I was fairly sure that I could remember how to get to the kitchens from this hall.

All I had to do was follow my nose. The rich smell of meat and the softer one of baking bread led me right to my step-mother. I walked into the bright and airy kitchen, looking about me. Even though the sky outside was dark the fire and many candles gave this room an enclosed comforting presence. I walked over to one of the many stoves and began to help Sophie throw in chunks of meat and salt into a hearty brown stew.

"Hello Lizzy. How on earth did you find your way in here? I tried to go exploring to find some of you all but that horrid woman, Giry I think is her name found me and shooed me back here." Sophie slowed her cutting, letting me do most of the work as she was still unsure of how a meal should be properly done.

"I simply went back to where we started and then the wonderful aroma of this room led me here." I stated and handed her some onions to chop. Taking the white plant reluctantly she moved over to Madeline at the counter and pulled out a small knife.

"Still, do you think that you can get back to your room? I don't know how we'll ever learn this place. But I like it, if only I could find a library or at least an atlas. But I doubt anyone has one, and we had to sell ours." Sophie huffed her eyes beginning to tear from the onion.

"I'm just glad that we may have a place to stay. And I like it here as well, but the building seems so lonely and hurt." Madeline replied as she handed me some carrots and turnips to put in the boiling pot of soup. I stirred the mess around and sprinkled some herbs in to give it more flavor as I nodded my agreement.

"I just hope that your sister will be so lucky as to find her way here as well." My step-mother stated from one of the pantries where she was stacking foods, wiping her hands on her apron she made her way over to me, brushing a stray strand of my hair behind my ears. I smiled at her and she kissed my cheek as she checked on the state of the stew.

"It looks good my darlings. I do believe that you are improving. Soon I'll be able to simply sit in a nice chair and oversee."

"Mama!" Sophie called twirling about in her pinafore golden curls flying as she hugged my step-mother. Madeline and I laughed as Sophie nearly knocked her off her feet with the force of that hug.

"Well this is what I return to I see. I've been wandering about these wretched halls and everyone in here giggling and cooking." We looked up to see Renee standing in the door frame her hands on her hips, scowling down at us.

"Renee you could get lost in our old three room house just as easily." My step-mother cried, hugging her newly found daughter.

"Especially if there was a young man calling down the road." Sophie replied tartly and received a playful swat from Renee.

Dinner was served in piping hot bowls at eight o clock. I nearly had sat down with my own bowl when eighteen other strange people walked in. Some were dancers from the way they carried themselves about, others stage men, their scraggly hair and clothes needing a wash badly. The five of us gaped at them for a moment then I leapt up with Madeline to fix a new round of soup for the newcomers. They noisily sat down on the floor or at a small table waiting for us to finish their conversations bouncing about, some louder then others. As I began to cut up the beef and vegetables to put in the steaming water Madeline scooted closer and closer to me.

"It's alright love. They won't hurt you. Just say here with me, oh and do bring your soup over, you need to eat." I replied to her as she nearly caused me to lose my balance, my hand jerking back from the hot edge of the pot. Soon the noise diminished as mouths were busy stuffing food in and I sat once more to eat my now cold bowl. _This is how it will be from now on. Taking care of others then yourself. _

Later that night Renee and I made our way back to our rooms, only getting lost once, which I quickly rectified by turning to the right, remembering the strange shift of fabric that I had heard down on the rafters.

"Do you like it here Eliza?" Renee asked linking her arm with mine as we walked down a particularly dark corridor.

"Yes. I think that this place will suit us very well. And just wait till the singers and other dancers arrive, what a busy time we will have then." I couldn't help myself, I was becoming excited about working in this opera house and I smiled broadly at nothing, my homesickness and sorrow forgotten for the time being.

"I suppose that we will find out what we are to do tomorrow." Renee replied noting my grin and pinching me playfully.

"Yes...tomorrow we will be interviewed by the managers and one of the patrons I heard mother say." I felt my mood deflating, in nervousness at the thought of not being good enough to work here. Renee nodded and we continued on.

I returned to my room some what later then the time that I could have, for Renee insisted that I walk her to her own. I went along good naturedly, knowing that it would be helpful to know the way later if I needed to talk to her. As I entered the room I noted that a few of the candles had gone out, though the wicks were still long enough to have another flame upon them. I pushed the thought from my mind thinking a small draft from my vent had sputtered them. I pulled my linen nightgown out from the closet and unhooked my bodice, corset and skirt. As I let the gown fall over my shift I reached for one of my thick blankets and a book. Settling down in the warm bed I read for a few moments but my tired eyes didn't catch the words as they once did and I soon blew out the candles and fell into the welcoming arms of sleep.

Early the next morning, before the sun had even peaked over the window I was dressed in my finer gowns, wearing a painfully tight corset that I saved for special occasions and was pacing about my room. I would plop down on my bed every so often and try to read more of my novel, which before had held my attention almost to the point of detraction but found my mind unable to concentrate on anything but the task I had ahead of me. Soon I gave up the ruse and traveled down to the kitchens.

It was slightly chilly in the large room, the fire down to it's last embers, but I sat up on the counter, swinging my legs in the air as I looked about, chewing on a small buttered piece of bread. The first thing that caught my eye was the mirror. For awhile I simply stared into the silvery glass but soon found myself having the sensation of someone staring just as strongly back and moved my attention to the fire. I padded my way to a pile of firewood in once corner and lifted a large block of the wood into my arms, carrying it a few feet then dumping it into the fire place, causing a small shower of embers to fly up at me in protest. Pulling a piece of tender from a small box I lit the edge and thrust it deep into the wood. Once smoke began to curl about I pulled it out and lifted a poker to stir up the fire. Soon I had a nice blaze going and I stood with my back turned to it, warming myself.

A few hours later my step-mother and Madeline began to stir, Sophie and Renee being the sloths would be asleep awhile yet. Mother noting my tight jaw and wandering eyes, hugged me before she began to fix breakfast for the rest of the opera house. I was just about to help her slice the bacon when a knock came from the kitchen door. The three of us turned to see Madam Giry, the woman who had led us in the opera yesterday standing on the threshold, resting her weight on her cane. She lowered her head to us, to which we curtsied back and she turned her gaze upon me.

"The managers will see you now my dear."


	6. Of Managers and Maids

**Chapter 5**

I followed the older woman down another maze of hallways, this time trying to remember landmarks to help me find my way back to the safety of the kitchen and my family. All was quiet as we made our way slowly down to the managers office, the only thing that broke the silence was the tapping of Madam Giry's cane. I soon felt my heartbeat begin to pick up on that steady rhythm and pounded just as hard as her stick of wood hit the opera's floors. I tried to take a few steadying breaths but found that my corset was too tight to allow any, shifting my shoulders I tried to loosen the knots in the front.

"Try to be still girl. They're not going to bite you know."

I halted my nervous movements at once at the sound of her voice, nodding when she turned to look back at me. _I suppose that she is trying to help me in her own way, _I thought when her grey gaze shifted back to me once moreI rested my eyes on the walls that surrounded me. They had become grander in this area of the house, for the gold and green paints began to appear once more. The halls also became wider, the narrowness of the wood and slightly slanted walkways didn't show like they had further backstage. I was so intent on my studying that I nearly ran into Madam Giry's back when she halted in front of a large mahogany door. She knocked twice and the low rumblings of several men's voices softened and a louder man, with a voice filled with richness, called out,

"Yes who is it?"

He sounded like thick carpets and finery, the pampered life of a noble carried in his tone. I smoothed my hair into it's decorative clips, trying to look as presentable as possible for such a man.

"This is one of the new girls from England." Madam Griy called back, her voice a flagon, and rang out just as strong as his had. There was another low murmuring of low talking from behind the door then the voice came again.

"Yes, do send her in."

Madam Giry stepped back from the door and I nodded politely to her. To my surprise she smiled at me and lightly touched my shoulder.

"You will do very well. Just don't let them intimidate you, and be sure to stay away from..."

But I never found out who I was to be wary of, for the door was opened by a harried little man. His grey hair was swept back from his face, his nose sharp, and his mouth was pursed slightly, but his eyes were kind, and I found my courage growing. He gestured with his hand for me to enter and I did so, lowering my eyes as protocol demanded. For I was not at the same level of social class as he or any in the room.

"Come in my dear, do take a seat."

I curtsied and looked up once more to find a chair, using that small amount of time to get a good look at my surroundings. There was a total of four men in the room, one of whom was sitting behind a large desk, puffing on a pipe. The others were seated about the room in chairs, the decorations in this room were very grand. Long oak gas lamps stood about, deep red plush carpet was under my feet, and another of the large mirrors stood near the back, commanding a fine overview of the room. _I wonder why they have so many. _I found a smaller chair that was placed where I could see all of the men at once and tried to gracefully sit, straightening my back, tilting my chin upwards. I glanced about at the men once more, my eyes never lingering on one for long, but when my eyes reached the man who was sitting behind the desk, I felt an involuntary shudder pass through me. He was not looking at me as a man would a maid, but like I was piece of meat. His eyes roamed over my neck and breasts beneath my gown, a carnal glaze hazing his eyes. I swallowed and tried to push the look from my mind. I didn't have long to linger on my disturbing discovery for one of the other men, a tall gangly fellow; dressed in deep blues that I knew must have cost a fortune, began to ask me questions.

"Tell me what is your name?" He had asked this new question in English. I paused for a moment, trying to decide what to do. So far I had been able to conceal my British accent quite well with the french that I was becoming accustomed to speaking, but this man had deliberately put this question forward in my original tongue. I was uncomfortable, but only those who knew me well would note the tightening of my jaw and hesitancy in my voice.

"Elizabeth Brett sir." My cockney burr rang out strong just as I knew it would, and my heart skipped a beat as the unusual sound passed through the room.

"Now is that your maiden name? Or are you one of the girls who was given the name when your mother married the Englishman?" Still he spoke in English, his un-concealable french making the words strained.

"My maiden name sir, Brett was my father." I felt tears beginning to well up behind my eyes, making the room misty, but I pushed them down.

"My child, are you quite prepared to take on the work here as a maid? For you will be serving many others, not just a few ladies as most maids are required. The task of laundry, cooking, cleaning, it will be a lot of work. Of course there will be others who are also given these tasks to help lighten your load, but it will still be a challenge." This comment came from a man in the farthest chair, he looked stern but like the man who had opened the door I sensed a kind spirit. Unlike his friend he spoke in French. I felt relieved that I could hide my true heritage and answered him in the same language.

"I understand sir. And I am willing to work as hard as I can." Several of the men glanced at one another, surprised that I had such a strong grasp on their tongue, for I knew that my french was perfect.

"Let the girl stay here. Indeed lets also give her the task of waiting on our gala parties for her pretty face will be a nice addition there." The man who sat behind the desk had spoken at last. His voice was coated with honey, but I could hear the lies that the sickly sweet sound covered. _I will have to watch my back with this man. _

"Indeed not. My dear you will be given the tasks of laundry, cleaning and teaching a few of the younger ballet girls their letters. And if you are needed you will help in the kitchen." I felt a surge of relief as the gentleman who had ushered me in protested to the other man sitting behind the desk.

"Why my dear Monsieur Rayair. Are you, the simple concert master and conductor trying to bring down my idea. Do you not wish to see this lovely creature at a gala serving me wine?" The man behind the desk called, his eyes never leaving me.

"I do not think, I _do not_ think that she will be necessary there my good Monsieur Cabartte. For we need all the help we can get in the laundry and those girls need to know something other then just how to point there toes on stage." Monsieur Rayair responded, not flustered by Cabartte's remark. When another of the men also agreed I realized who the man, Cabartte, was._ The patron. This opera house depends upon his pocketbook, and they will play this game by his rules or risk losing everything, if they do not._

"Very well. But my dear Elizabeth I would like to see you every once and awhile." Cabartte smiled at me. _I highly doubt that monsieur, if I can have any say in the matter. _

"Well good it's settled then, Miss Brett find Madam Giry, she is the ballet master she will give you your duties until we have hired a head maid." The tall blue dressed manager replied wiping his brow with a handkerchief. I rose and curtsied to the men, and made a quick exit. As I shut the door I could still feel Cabartte's burning gaze on my back.

"Well Elizabeth do you have any questions?" Madam Giry stood by my side as I looked at the large pile of clothes that sat in a pile beside a large empty tub. I sighed inwardly, _no one had even attempted to do this in weeks. _

"Just where am I to gather the water Madam Giry," I responded, turning over a few of the shirts, and despairing at the large stains that had sunk deep into the fabric. She gestured for me to follow her and she led me out to an airy stable yard. I shrugged my shawl closer to me, as the nippy air bit at my skin.

After I had left the interview I had run back down to the kitchens. My step-mother had bitten her lips when I told her of the patron Cabartte's attention, but she had hugged me and shooed me off to change into a work gown and to find Madam Giry. Returning to my room I had quickly discarded the tight corset and fine gown for a simple dress. I attached two skirts to my loose shift and pulled on my under shirt and vest, which I laced up tightly in the front, then tied on my crip ironed apron. Rifling through some drawers I found my cap which I covered my wavy brownish gold hair with, as a maid should. After smoothing my dress and checking my cap for any loose hairs I roamed the halls looking for Madam Giry. I had found her on the stage, a cluster of girls about her, all resting their long legs on bars, moving their arms gracefully about. When she spotted me, she told her ballet rats to continue on stretching and led me down to one of the rooms near the stables. Telling me what to iron and what to starch, I had listened intently while she spoke, not wanting to mess things up my first day.

Now she turned to me and pointed to a large bucket. "That you are to fill with the water and heat on the fire in the kitchen, the trip from there to the washing room isn't far. Now I must return to my own duties, I'm sure that your not as clueless as some they hire, you shall do fine." Her voice softened and she gave me another quick smile. For the first time since I had met her I smiled kindly back.

"Thank you." I called to her retreating back. Once she was out of sight I hauled a bucket up to the pump and lifted the green handle, watching the cold blue water fill the grey pail. Once it was full I carried it up through the washing room to the adjoining kitchen. Setting it down on the fire, I flashed a grin and crossed my eyes to Sophie and Madeline, who's giggles followed me back to the stable yard. I gave the same treatment to three other buckets then helped my step-mother prepare the fish for the mid-day meal while the pails heated.

"Renee has come back from her own interview," My step-mother called to me as I peeled the scales off one of the larger fish before setting it down on the frying pan, watching as the flesh grew pink in the heat. I chose not to answer her, but she continued on. "She said nothing about the patron, only that she was given the tasks of dusting and sweeping the rooms. Apparently the polishing and washing of the main hall and stage have been left to you as well."

I was not given time to protest as the heated water began to bubble and steam, some sloshing out onto the floor. I lifted the metal handles with a thick piece of cloth and carried each bucket though to the large tub, pouring the scalding water in. Soon I began to sort through the clothes, deciding to do the whites which would require the most scrubbing and starching first I detached them from the other colors. Peeling a few potatoes and dumping the slices into the water I began to scrub on the shirts, working a fine lather until the stains were gone. My arms were aching, but I threw the whites in and pulled the large wooden turner from the wall. Standing up beside the tub I slowly moved the stick through the water, turning the clothes, until my hands were chapped and bleeding.

While the materials soaked I began to attach long lines in the empty space set aside for them in the dim wintery sunlight. I traveled back and forth, stretching the dripping clothes on the lines, smoothing out wrinkles. I then drained the now cold water into the grass, and pumped the buckets full once more. I went on in this fashion all day, stopping only to eat. Late that evening I had all of the clothes washed. When night fell I started a roaring fire in the kitchen and attached the lines in there, moving the clothes from outside into the piping hot room.

"Come here Lizzy," Madeline called from where she was sitting on the large wooden table, reading a book. The others had retired long ago and as Madeline and I were the readers in the family we were always shunned to another room where we could have all the light we needed, not disturbing others while they tried to sleep. I slowly made my way over to her, wiping my chapped hands on my now dirty apron.

"Let me see your hands dearest." Her small fifteen year-old fingers closed over mine and she made a face. "Did you soak them yet?"

"Not yet, but I have the water and herbs heating right now, I think I'll clean them in my room. I have never seen anyone so behind on their laundry! We may have it on hard terms but I think that they hadn't cleaned in over two weeks. From now on I'll do the washing early in the morning. Can you believe that they have to morrows load already in the room? And I suppose that I'll need to clean the hall and stage to morrow as well." I sighed and Madeline ducked her head.

"I can help with the washing..."

"No," I replied quickly, "I won't have you ruining your hands at fifteen,"

"At least let me hang it up. You taught me how to stretch it last year, I want to help you. All Sophie, mother and I have been assigned is to cook. You have it the worst so far. And mama doesn't think that they will be hiring any more maids for a while." Madeline replied, shaking her head and gazing at me sorrowfully.

"What have their highness been given to do?" I asked walking over to the stove, still refusing to answer Madeline's question.

"They were given cleaning jobs as well. Aunt Maria is to help mama in here, and Aloysia is to help you in the polishing and cleaning. And you still haven't answered me."

"I suppose you can hang them up, lord knows it well help me some, if Aloysia is to help clean with me." I responded after several moments. Madeline ran up and hugged me, and I kissed her forehead.

"Go to bed love, we have another hard day in front of us tomorrow." I told her as I pulled the boiling water with the soothing herbs for my hands off the fire. She nodded and picked up her book, running to open the door for me. I stepped out into the darkness of the corridors, feeling my way along with my hands. I was just about to round the final corner to my room when I heard breathing behind me. It resonated low and even in my ears and I caught a faint whiff of candle smoke and the exotic smell of incense. I whirled around, some water spilling onto my arm, causing me to cry out in pain, but the breathing had stopped. I wildly looked about, a fear rising in me that it had been Cabartte. And I was not daft enough in the ways of the world to know what a man would do with a maid in a dark corridor. After a few moments of listening, I continued on to my room, to soak my hands and to try and forget the strange apparition that had frighted me so.


	7. To Know Her Name

**Chapter 6**

The managers mirror had served it's purposes very well. I had arrived in the room before any of those pompous men had, to make some last adjustments on a vent that would allow me to hear as well as see what was going on.

I had followed Marie when she had lead that ragtag family from England in the other afternoon. Some of the girls that clustered about the dark haired woman, that I assumed to be their mother, looked older then eighteen. And one didn't seem to fit in with the others quite as well. But my attention was drawn away from deciphering the small family when a loud heavy set woman and a rather beautiful young girl battered their way in the doors. The latter of the two merely stood and chewed on a box of toffies while her mother I presumed stormed about, yelling loudly that they were being treated most unfairly. As she prattled on I found my mind forming new ideas of how I could best use this overbearing, simpleminded woman for my plan.

When Marie led each of the new servant to their respective rooms I followed. High above on one of the many flies I carelessly walked along, stopping when they did. The girl who hadn't seemed to fit in with the family nearly spotted me when Marie led the dark haired woman and her two younger daughters down to the kitchens. I wasn't paying much attention to her at the moment, trying to hear what the large woman was saying to her daughter, who at the moment had the look of a deer, eyes wide and fearful. Then I heard a small gasp, I turned quickly, catching that girls eyes peering up at me, narrowing slightly in the bright afternoon sun. Before she could position herself to get a better look I pulled myself back into the deeper shadows at the end of the fly, my eyes still searching her face as she tried to piece together what she had just seen. She had started slightly when Marie had questioned her, but answered strongly back that she was not sure as to what she had just caught a glimpse of. She was the next to be deposited to her room, I smirked as she went in. She had been given one of the many rooms that I had decided to install a newer invention of mine. Two of the walls in her room were panels that could slide back with the simple touch of one of my mechanisms. I would have to test them out later today after I had found out more on this new player of mine.

I entered the room before Marie had even opened the door for them. As I watched from an older vent, the lovely blonde haired girl stepped in, her feet a whisper against the wooden floors. Wrinkling her dainty little nose in disgust at the shabby beds and washbasin she lay her trunk down, and tuned to her mother who was talking harshly to Marie.

"Now look here, we were expecting to have finer rooms then this one! I daresay we shall catch our deaths, look at that vent, and the windows haven't been washed I see. Do you have any idea who is in our bloodline?" The large woman puffed herself up, but Marie wasn't easily intimidated.

"Madam Mason, I was not aware that we had hired someone who was merely to stay on as a permanent guest."

The Madam Mason took in even more air then she had before. _Her corset must be near to snapping in half. _

"Who is to take our laundry and other necessities, Madam Giry? For we..."

"I think that you can manage to take them down. If there is nothing else, I bid you good day Madam." Marie snapped, turning on her heel before anything else was said, slamming the door behind her retreating back. I narrowed my eyes and turned back to the two ladies in the room. _Perhaps I can feed that insatiable pride of hers, and she will be willing to do what I require. _

"That horrid woman. To think that we are to be treated less then dirt in this hell hole. It is not to be stood Aloysia my pet. I think I shall ask Elizabeth or Renee to take our things down. It may be better if I ask Renee for Eliza goes into such rages when I ask her favors, as if I don't do enough for her." Maria Mason cried out, plopping her body on the bed, which groaned under her weight. _Yes she will do very well._

"Mama perhaps we should try to find the kitchens as Aunt Jacqueline will be cooking for dinner soon." The graceful girl replied, pulling out another candy from her bag, her gold hair shining as she flipped it about her face.

"No, no my little bird that will not do. I'm sick to death of Jacqueline's cooking. It is far to corse for the like of us sweet. I did see some rather lovely cafes along the drive here. What do you say to us driving out to eat hmm?"

The girl didn't respond, simply twirled her hair about some more and smoothed her pink frock, which was wrinkled slightly in one corner. _She most likely hasn't been given a choice so large before. Her mind must be aching from the decision that she has to make, eat here, or travel to a café. Very hard if I do say so my self. Though I have never been given the honor of eating at a café. _

They continued on for several more moments and I soon grew bored with the Mason family. Shutting the small door behind me, I moved on down the dark passageways till I came to room of that girl who had nearly caught sight of me moments before. It was empty now, and I noted the vacant trunk sitting under the bed, which had been covered with comforters and soft pillows. Tacked about the room's walls were postcards and family pictures. She had lit most of the candles and the tiny space was bathed in a soft, welcoming light. I pushed the mechanism lightly and the right wall slid open allowing me to pass quietly in. A few of the candles had sputtered when the whoosh of air that the movement of the wall let in passed over them. I didn't think that she would take note, simply assuming that she would think that a breeze had come through the vent, and I began to look at the little decorations that she had placed about the room. Many of the postcard were blank on the back, _she must have bought them for the image on the front. _But the pictures that were tacked about had a spidery writing on them. One had a tall smiling man, he was standing on a large piece of machinery, behind him a factory. I flipped the card up to see if she had written anything. In the same spidery writhing read, Papa at his new job 1871.

_Something must have happened to this father of hers, there was no information from Marie of any males joining these women here. _I looked at another picture. This one had her and the father along with three other boys. They were smiling, they were happy. I pulled back breathing heavily. Happiness was something that I had only known in small spurts, and yet I had never in my wretched life smiled like that, even when Christine was here. _Christine, oh God Christine. _

I pressed the mechanism once more, wanting to leave her space as quickly as I could, feeling both guilty and ashamed that I had intruded on her memories. I moved slowly down the dark stone hall ways, my body bent and weary, how I hated this new girl. She hadn't asked me to come in that room and be reminded on someone that I had just pushed from my mind with this new plan to re-establish myself. But I had to blame someone other then myself, for I had taken on so much over the past few years, and I didn't think that I could live with more. So I slunk back to my home, like a beaten dog to lick my wounds and to get control over myself once more.

Early the next morning I departed my home for the kitchens, wanting to eat some fresh food for once, now that we had a new cook I wanted to eat something other then stale bread and cheese. I had felt much better after giving myself once more to my music. Late into the night I had scribbled and played, creating lonely and mournful pieces, but they had helped me to let out some of my anger. Throwing on my cloak and pulling on my newly polished shoes I made my way upwards.

The large mirror in the kitchen was another new idea of mine, for I felt like simply sneaking in by way of the door would be no longer convenient, seeing as the mere sight of me would send the whole opera house into a panic once more. I came up to the foggy glass and peered out. The fire had nearly died down and faint sunlight was shining through the shuttered windows. It looked much cosier then the last kitchen, which had been destroyed in the fire. Where the other had been too large and wide, this one was smaller, with only vaulted ceilings to give a sense of space. I was just about to step out onto the orange bricks when I heard the groan of the main door. I quickly slunk back, pulling the glass shut, watching the large doors. I pushed myself further back into the shadows when I saw that it was that girl. Grinding my teeth in frustration, I watched as she moved awkwardly about in a much finer gown then the one that she had been wearing yesterday. She leapt up onto the counter and fixed herself a hunk of buttered bread, munching on it slowly. I harshly inhaled when she looked directly at where I was standing in the mirror. Waiting for her to cry out that something was there, she surprised me by remaining quite still, then dropped her gaze completely, turning her attention elsewhere. She hopped down and re-stoked the fire, pulling a large chunk of wood from the others piled in the corner, and carried it over to the dying embers. I thought for sure she would leave after that but instead she paced about some, wringing her hands. She would pause ever so often and stand by the now blazing fire, but did little else. Snarling slightly, I moved on down my dark passageways, rather upset that I had missed breakfast, wanting nothing more then to throttle that girl who stood in the kitchen.

The managers arrived soon after I had finished correcting the vent. I watched as Cabartte and the others made themselves comfortable. I noted that Monsieur Rayer had decided to join them today. He was a tall wisp of a man, but could be quite forceful when he needed to be. _Yes gentlemen I know your game. You yourself won't challenge Cabartte so you let the concertmaster do so for you. _

She was the first one to come in. Right when she walked in the door I noted that she carried herself differently. Her whole body was ridged but she moved with a grace that I had never seen in her before. Sitting primly down she glanced about the room, her eyes falling politely on each of the men, something in them however seemed to start when she looked at Cabartte. I glanced quickly over at him. The slimy bastard was looking at her with pure lust shining in his eyes, his chubby body leaning forward. I moved my own gaze back over to her, she looked like she had seen nothing. The fearful haze had disappeared as soon as she looked away, and I couldn't help but feel a small shred of respect for her. She took the heavy news of her many tasks well, never once complaining or rasing protest, only when Cabartte suggested that she attend the gala, did she seem uncomfortable once more. But Rayer did his job remarkably well, he raised protest to the mere idea the moment it was out of Cabartte's mouth. She curtsied lightly and gave Rayer a small smile of gratitude before she left.

The men didn't have long to wait before another young girl entered. Renee DeFlur, for she was one of the step-children of that Brett fellow. It was only after she said her named that I noticed that I couldn't recall that girl who had harried me all day. She had said it, I just couldn't remember it. Renee left and the tall woman that was mother to all those girls came in. Jacqueline DeFlur was kind and open, and she and her two younger daughters were given the position of cook and head maids. Then in came my prey, her body covered in jewels and rouge, she looked no better then a common whore.

Maria and Aloysia Mason were just as snobby to their new managers as they had been to Marie Giry. They scoffed at being given the work of maids but were soon sent from the room by Rayer, who claimed that their protests were giving him a headache. But I had learned enough to set my plan in motion the next day. The letter would be waiting for that selfish woman to read in the morning and she would have all day to think about my proposition.

It was late by the time I had her letter ready, sealed with my wax death's head. I had written draft after draft, then decided to play on her desires to see that simpleminded daughter rise to success. I moved silently and swiftly down the halls, the darkness giving me plenty of protection from others who might be about at this Godforsaken twelfth hour of the night. I rounded the corner and nearly ran into a willowy woman. She was dressed in a simple dress of brown and tan, a cap covering her hair. Carrying a bucket of steaming water that smelled of herbs and lotions she started slightly, her face coming into my view. Deep green eyes gazed out into the darkness, her mouth slightly parted in shock, then closing into a hiss when some of the hot water sloshed out onto her arms. When she looked down at her burned skin I moved past her inhaling her fresh sent of youth and lavender. It was then that I remembered her name, the girl with the room filled with pictures, who had faced Cabartte with out fear. _Elizabeth._


	8. A New Chance at Friendship

**AN: Sorry bout the delay in this update. Family duty calls as well as a new semester at school. And here I shall pose a question: does anyone want to beta this story? My grammar has always been horrible, and I would like to have a second opinion on what I write. So if there are any interests my e-mail is with the show! Thanks to le Chat Noir for reviewing.**

**Chapter 7**

A faint ray of sunlight peeked though my small window, stretching across my face and bed. I moaned lowly, my arms and back aching as I moved. Sitting up I glanced about my room. A few of the candles were still burning, their smoke billowing out slowly. I still hadn't gotten used to the new space, and I doubted that I would for awhile. Rolling my shoulders and blinking sleep from my drowsy eyes, I glanced over at my clock.

6:45 read the hands on the peeling numbers. Sighing, I reluctantly pulled my legs from the warm sheets, placing my feet on the cold floor. Winching slightly, I made my way over to the wardrobe that took up half of my small living space. The creak the door frame made caused me to jump, glancing about worriedly.

It had taken me hours to settle my fear at what I had heard and smelt in the hallway last night. After I had soothed my inflamed hands with the hot water, I had paced about, unsettled. I simply couldn't figure out who had been following me. At first my mind had screamed Cabartte, but then my thoughts cleared and I realized that it wasn't possible. I had watched him and the other managers leave from the stable yard a few hours after I had begun my work.

When I heard his tell-tale voice I had run into the kitchen with my bucket still unfilled, my heart pounding with apprehension. If he had seen me I knew that he would not hesitate to try and take advantage of me. Especially if he found me in a situation that I would have no exit from.

Clucking at myself for my foolish tension at the closet I quickly scanned the space for a dress. Today I was to begin my work in the auditorium. Picking an older light blue gown, which I would not mind dust or cleaning supplies staining, I moved to the bed to dress myself. I didn't bother with a corset or any make up. After tying a new apron round my waist, I went to the vanity to pull up my hair to put in my newly starched cap.

I gazed at my slightly blood-shot eyes for a moment, the deep red causing the green iris to stand out sharply. I decided to take a cup of very strong tea when I arrived in the kitchens to put some bloom back in my haggard face. I sighed at my reflection one last time then made my way to my door, and the new days duties.

The kitchen was filled with people when I walked in. Shutting the heavy doors behind me I nodded to a few of the ballerinas. One of whom, a pretty blonde with sharp grey eyes, nodded politely back. Making my way over to the stove and my step-family, I continued to quietly study the groups in the room. As far as I could tell there were no newcomers. But some of the finer members of the opera's troupe might not consider themselves low enough to eat in the kitchens with the stage crew and ballet rats.

Madeline saw me pushing my way politely though the mass of hungry people, and rushed to my side. I flashed her a quick smile as she grabbed my hand, leading me to the washing room.

"I decided to help you out by folding the dry clothes this morning." She said, pointing her hand over to the neat little piles of cloth. I hugged her to me in gratitude, glad to have her willing help.

"Thank you. Are you sure that mama can spare you though? If your shirking your own duties to help me..."

"No, no! Besides mama has Sophie to help, as well as me. They were busy stoking the fire and getting out the cooking supplies. And there's only so many people that can be around one cabinet, with out someone being in the way." Madeline protested, interrupting my scrutiny. Grinning, I shook my head at her.

"Very well then. But be sure that your doing your own chores."

Madeline made a small face, extending her lower lip in a pout. "I will! Besides, you told me that you would let me hang the wet clothes outside."

"And I shall, I've never been one to go back on my word. Just let me boil the water..."

"Oh! It's ready."

I gaped at her slightly, and turned to the cast iron washing tub. Sure enough, steam was rising heavily from it.

"Madeline..." I began but she merely rushed over to the pile of dirty laundry, picking it up and placing it in my hands.

"Come on, you don't want to miss breakfast."

Rolling my eyes, I made my way over to the large pot, dumping the linens in. Only to pull them out once more to give them a good scrubbing with the soap. With Madeline's help I was finished in no time, handing out shirt after shirt for her to hang up on the lines in the stable yards.

"Breakfast you two!" Came Sophie's cry from the kitchen. Wiping my wet, newly chapped hands on my apron I called Madeline in from the yard, and we made our way into the warm kitchen.

Everyone was lounging about the room. Some sitting at the small tables that were scattered about, others reclining on the floor. The talking had diminished some, with the hot bowls of porridge or plates of freshly cooked bread and fruits in their hands. Renee had just come in from the main hall. She gracefully swept herself into the room, her slightly loose brown waves peeking out from her cap. Coming to stand by me as I piled my plate with muffins and apples slices, she leaned her head close to mine.

"Elizabeth, have you heard what Aunt Maria found in her room this morning?" Her voice was a light tickle against my ear. I shook my head, nodding pointedly toward a small empty table. She took the hint beautifully and prepared herself a plate quietly and quickly. Following me to the specified area we took our seats, getting ourselves comfortable, and taking a few bites of our breakfast before I looked up at her expectantly.

"It turns out that Aunt Maria and cousin Aloysia have had a night-time visitor."

I nearly choked on my apple. "W...what?"

Renee looked at me curiously for a moment but continued on. "It seems that someone had left them a letter during the night. Yes, I asked her if she was certain that it wasn't there before but she firmly insisted that it wasn't."

"How did you find this out? For I haven't seen any sign of her or Aloysia since the other afternoon. Not that I mind, but still."

Renee flashed me a guilty look before she answered. "Well...I...that is she...Oh Lizzy! She asked if I wouldn't mind helping her a bit. So I went up there to clean the water basin and to take down their dirty laundry."

"Renee! Why on earth do you have to be so agreeable with everyone! Just tell the old witch no. I assure you that no one will think the lesser of you if you do."

"I know, I know. Anyway, that letter,"

"Oh what about it?" I snapped, perturbed that dear Aunt Maria was already using her so.

"No do try not to be cross with me Lizzy. The letter, from what I saw was sealed with a gleaming death's head." She paused dramatically and waited for me to say something, but I merely took a sip of my tea; ignoring her gaze. Renee arched her eyebrows at my non-responsive face. "Elizabeth! If I'd have known that you would have taken the new so lightly I wouldn't have told you."

"It's not that I'm not interested, it's just you haven't told me what was so scandalous about the contents." I replied, defending my actions.

"Oh, well," Renee said, slicing a bit of butter to put on her muffin. "I'm not sure what it said. She hurried me out of the room before I could hear what the contents were."

I nodded and continued on munching on my apples. _I wonder if the person who delivered that letter was the man that was behind me last night?_

After breakfast, I hurried into the auditorium. There were auditions being held up on the main part of the stage. I recognized all three men who were silently scribbling on papers as someone sang a collection of arias. Two were the managers, for the tall man who had questioned me during my interview seemed to be doing the same to those who walked up on the stage. The second manager, seemed to be content to silently sit and listen. The other was the concertmaster who had saved my neck from Cabartte. He was less primly dressed then the other two, but he still could hold an air of authority with out the charade of elegant clothes.

I quietly made my way over to the right side steps of the stage, were I was out of view from the others sitting in the seats. Pushing my way past the plush red curtain, I began to look around for Madam Giry. I didn't know if she would have any idea of were I was to start cleaning in this massive room, but it didn't hurt to try and ask.

I found her a few feet back from the curtain, she and her group of ballet dancers were stretching on the long black bars. She noted me as I came around the corner and watched as I walked slowly up to her. Her deep grey eyes seemed to bore into me, but the emotion in them was not threatening. I smiled slightly at her and made a small curtsy, to which she inclined her head gracefully.

"Madam Giry, do you know what I am to clean in here?" I asked, studying her face.

She nodded to me in response and turned to her dancers. "Meg, do come here."

I looked over her shoulder as the graceful blonde who had smiled at me in the kitchens walked over. Her golden hair was pulled back into a half pony-tail, the curls falling perfectly about her round, glowing face. Her light grey eyes, so like her mothers, shined as she recognized me. Her feet fell into the fifth position of a dancer as she looked to her mother.

"Would you mind showing Elizabeth what she is to do? Sorry Elizabeth but I must work with my dancers. As the managers are hiring the singers now it won't be long till this opera house is ready to begin it's first performance."

"I understand Madam. Thank you again." I replied, looking to the ballet rats who moved lightly on the wooden bars and floor.

"Good. Meg?" Madam Giry smiled, looking meaningfully at her daughter.

"Yes, Elizabeth are you ready?" Her voice was sweet and light and I found myself warming to this grinning beauty.

"Yes madam," I said, moving aside for her. Lowering my head in respect I expected her to sweep past me, but she surprised me by linking her arm with mine.

"Oh! Don't feel the need to be so formal." She laughed, pulling me gently along.

"Sorry, I just thought that you would..." I began, still in shock that she would be so open to a complete stranger.

"Be so open with a maid. You're a girl same as me. And I'm sure that we both are kept up nights worrying about what the next day will bring. Or at least if the gentleman that we saw will give us a second glance." Meg cried, giggling at the very thought of a man taking interest in her.

"Hopeless romantic I see. Finally I've found someone I can talk to." I replied, giggling myself. She laughed again, and we made our way out into the auditorium. We silenced our smiles and conversation when we walked down the small side steps. Still leading me, Meg pulled me over to a corner.

"We can talk here I think. I suppose I must tell you your duties now? I do hope that we can talk again though, I feel like you and I will be good friends Elizabeth." Her slate eyes shimmering. I smiled.

"I do hope that we can be friends."

She grinned back then began to speak of my new duties. Cleaning and polishing the seats and balconies, as well as scrubbing the stage. It would be a lot of work, too much for one person.

"Your cousin, Aloysia, I believe will be helping you. Though from what I've seen of the girl it looks like she'll be as much help as a empty bucket." Meg replied, looking at me with something like sympathy in her gaze.

"Well I'll try my best with her. And by the way, a bucket is much more help then Aloysia. Empty or full."

Meg laughed and clasped my hands. "I must go back to the rehearsal now, but I have a small favor to ask you."

I must have looked confused because she continued on quickly. "Will you eat dinner with some of the girls and I tonight? At one of the near by cafes?"

I smiled, the grin taking up half my face. "I'd be delighted. Thank you for the offer."

She waved away my thanks and made her goodbyes. I watched as my new found friend climbed the steps silently, glancing back at me to wave. I grinned and moved to find the supplies that she had told me about.

I was cleaning the left half of the stage, listening to the singers as they tried out. Some sounded lovely, their voices resonating in the large room. Others however caused my bucket of soapy water to ripple in pain. Working on a particularly hard black scuff-mark I noticed a pair of bright white boots. The silver buttons gleamed at me in the bright stage lights, one of the shoes stomped slightly. Rasing my head I looked up to see Aloysia.

She was chewing on another toffy, the brown candy sticking to her teeth. Her blue eyes scanned over me, back bent, some of my hairs drifting about my face.

"What are you doing?" Her soft tone curious.

"I am cleaning the stage." I replied icily. She was too daft to take the hint.

"Mama got a letter. Won't let me see it. Careful Lizzy! These are new boots!"

I carefully sloshed water near the gleaming white leather. "So I heard. Are you going to help me?"

"I suppose." She answered. She cautiously let one of her smooth hands sink into the bucket of water, pulling out a rag as if it was a bug. Letting it drip for a moment she rubbed it lightly across the floor.

"You'll have to do it harder then that or the floor will never get clean." I said, turning back to my own work. She pushed slightly more on the wet cloth, but it didn't make much difference. I was about to criticize her once more when a familiar voice drifted to us.

"Aloysia do get up. You'll ruin your dress, not to mention your hands. You don't want them to look like Eliza's horrid ones do you?"

The singer on review halted in her aria, her eyes narrowing at the intrusion. But dear Aunt Maria wasn't phased. I glared at her as she moved her large, overly dressed and perfumed body past me. Pulling Aloysia to her feet, she turned her gaze to the three silent men. Smiling a snake like grin she walked on. I looked at her in confusion.

In her pocket I heard the jingling of coins. I knew that she came over with less money then we did, and most of it in stocks in the bank. There was no way that she could have managed to smuggle any extra change with her to this new country. Yet I heard the tell-tale sound once more as her ham like legs shifted her weight. _Where had she gotten money from?_


	9. The Figure Returns

**Many thanks and hugs to my new beta Celtic Heart. With out her help this would just be a jumble of misplaced commas and periods. **

**Chapter 8**

I watched in a mixture of amazement and disgust as Aunt Maria slowly made her way over to the slightly perturbed managers. Still grinning that horribly false smile, she and Aloysia halted in front of the three men.

"And who may we thank for this delightful interruption?" Monsieur Rayer asked, his calm, soothing voice dripping with sarcasm. Aunt Maria giggled, a low gutsy sound and waved a hand playfully at the concertmaster.

"I am most gratified that you would call me a delightful interruption." She replied, missing Rayer's hint completely. A forced smile came over Rayer's thin face, and he looked over to the other men sitting beside him. The taller manager rose, sweeping into a bow that was all too refined for a simple maid. Though she blushed at his gesture, I could tell that by no means was she completely caught off guard.

My Aunt Marie had been raised in a family that often gave themselves because several generations back, a duke had come from their stock. From the very first day that I met this overbearing, loud woman, she had made it perfectly clear that she was to be treated better then most. Her sharp gaze had passed over my gawky fifteen-year-old body slowly, her nose wrinkling, distorting her chubby features. I curtseyed quickly for her, not wanting to give a bad impression to my new family. Raising my head to see her response I watched as a slow sneer crossed her face.

"Eliza? Is that what you said your name was?" I pulled myself up to my full height, raising my chin as I always did when I felt like I was in unfriendly territory.

"Yes Aunt Maria. I am pleased to meet you."

"Aunt?" She sputtered in outrage. "Don't be silly girl! I hardly know you. You will address me as Madam Mason until I tell you other wise." Hiding my shock and hurt at her sharp words, I nodded.

"Yes Madam Mason. Forgive me for offending you so."

It had been an undeclared war between the two of us ever since. For a few months I bowed under her strict rules and cruel comments, but soon I was tired of the charade. At the first signs of my disobedience to her wishes she had merely sulked; like a spoiled child who hasn't gotten what they asked for. Then she began go out of her way to make my life miserable. Often she would deliberately spill red wine on a newly washed tablecloth, knowing that it was my task in the house to clean the laundry. But I soon found that a sharp comment to her remarks would put her in her place. Now she stood in front of the leaders of this new opera house, two of who would have control over our jobs and salaries.

"Is it alright gentlemen if I speak with Monsieur De Perix outside?" Her question caused the men to glance at one another in surprise. I gaped at her boldness. _If we lose our places here I'll know whom to thank. _

The other manager who was sitting comfortably in his plush red chair, blinked slowly, as if trying to make sense of this request. His little brown moustache and glasses wiggled slightly as her narrowed his eyes, trying to size up the woman before him.

"Why, if you don't mind me asking, do you need me? Are you not happy with your new positions?" Aunt Marie looked slightly taken aback at his question.

"Why no Monsieur. In fact washing the laundry has proven to be a perfect pastime for me." I nearly leapt to my feet in outrage. _That horrid woman! How dare she take credit for my hard work? I don't see her hands cut with the task, or her face chapped from that painful heat_. De Perix smiled and gestured to his handsome cravat, which I could recall throwing in with some of the finer fabrics yesterday.

"If you are the one who has helped to take over the laundry then you are quite excellent at it. I have never had something so carefully cleaned." Gritting my teeth, my angered breathing coming out in little pants, I watched as she stood there and took the thanks for my work. I bit my lip to keep my treacherous mouth from calling her bluff.

"I am glad that you like my washing. I hope that you will continue to do so." Aunt Marie said, her voice a light purr. I went back to scrubbing the wooden slates of the stage, throwing my anger into harsh scrubbing. She chattered on and on to the men, praising the "washing skills" that she had acquired from her mother. I pressed my lips together as her lies grew, ever so often looking at the now forgotten singer on the stage.

I hoped that Aunt Marie would get a rise out of her, but my wish went unanswered. She simply played with the ruffles on her fine red dress, humming softly to herself. Loudly dropping the rag back into the soapy water, I sat back on my haunches to think. Just as I was trying to work my mind around the thought of dear Aunt Marie having extra money, I heard a low swish of fabric.

I started slightly, my mind falling back to the previous night. It was the same telltale sound; the same soft clatter of boots on wood. My eyes growing wider by the second I slowly tilted my head to look at the sun-bathed flies.

An outline of a man was projected raggedly in the bright light. I let out a shaky breath, and inhaled sharply. _Someone was watching what was going on. Someone was wandering about the opera house. _

Aunt Marie's loud voice pulled me back to her conversation. She was pleading with De Perix to come with her outside to discuss a matter of great importance. The bespectacled man didn't seem to care much for the request and tried to egg her into telling him in the auditorium. But I was still unsettled about the man behind me. I turned my neck slightly once more, but the fly was empty.

"Come now madam, surely you can tell me the content of your discussion in here." De Perix stated, his voice taking a whiny quality.

"Please monsieur, I was requested to talk with you alone." Aunt Marie threw back, using suspense as a wild card against the stubborn man.

"By whom?" De Perix asked, his curiosity roused. I noted that Rayer also looked taken aback by the offhand comment of the secret request. His long face stretched out to a sharper degree when he frowned.

"I am not at liberty to say. He wishes to remain...an... anonymous." I nearly laughed at her inability to say the word, her elegant manner shattered for a moment.

"I see. And you refuse to tell me the matter in here?" De Perix tried again. When Aunt Marie shook her head in refusal he sighed and rose.

"Very well. Monsieur Rayer, Monsieur De Guise I presume that you will be able to continue on the auditions without me for a moment?" When the two men nodded their consent, De Perix extended his arm to Aunt Marie, who took it gracefully. Sweeping her around, the mismatched pair made their way up to the double mahogany doors that led into the main hall. I watched, fascinated and wondering what she had to tell. I was still gazing after them when I noted the stark white boots once more tapping away at my side. I cast an annoyed look up to Aloysia who plopped down beside me.

"I don't have time to talk." I stated, praying that she would have enough gumption to wander elsewhere. Sadly that would be giving her poor little brain too much credit.

"I wonder why mama said that she did the laundry? Perhaps she got up in the middle of the night and washed it." I glared at her, hating every golden ringlet on her head.

"I did the clothes Aloysia. Your mother would never lift a finger to help anyone other then herself." My words dripped with malice and ice and she sat there unfazed by it all.

"There is someone who can help me have the proper wedding." Aloysia stated, grabbing at the hem of her periwinkle blue gown. The lace and satin on it proved it to be far to fancy for a simple maid.

"What are you talking about? What wedding?" I asked tossing a rag to her. She squealed slightly as it made a small plop on the slate next to her. A quick hiss to be silent came from the diva on stage, who was finally getting to sing. I listened as her voice soared on the cadenzas and flowed over the rich Italian words.

"Mama always said I would marry well. That I would not end up like you Brett's and DeFlur's."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked through clenched teeth.

"I shall become a duchess or a noblewoman." She stated simply, as if it was every girl's destiny to achieve. I stopped scrubbing to look at her expression, hoping to decode anything behind it.

"With what? You have no dowry..." I began but was interrupted by her indignant reply.

"Mama says that if you have a pretty face and great talents you don't need a dowry." I arched my eyebrow at her answer.

"And what talent do you have?"

"I can sing of course." I stared at her. Never in my five years of knowing her had I ever heard her sing. In fact, I had never seen her do much of anything.

"You sing? I had no idea Aloysia." My tone had become kinder towards her, wanting to hear her let loose this marvelous talent.

"Oh yes." It was all she said. I even waited for a few moments for her to continue, but she just swirled water paths about on the floor.

"Well," I began. "What part?" She peered up at me, her face blanker then usual.

"What do you mean?"

"You know...alto, soprano. What part do you sing?"

"Oh! Tenor." I couldn't help myself, I laughed. My giggles caused Rayer and the others to throw me glares and harsh shushes, but I couldn't seem to stop. Soon Aloysia even laughed, though she had no idea what I had found so amusing. When I had control of myself once more I looked back to Aloysia.

"So you've taught yourself the male part have you? Well I wish you luck with your career. I'm quite sure that there will be no one else to challenge you in that field save men." The poor girl just stared blankly at me, her deep brown eyes empty.

"Males? What do you mean? I'm a girl?"

"Glad to hear it. Aloysia, tenor is a male part." I stated, smiling at her lack of knowledge in her talent.

"I see. Then I am the highest part for women."

"Ah! A soprano. Lyrical or dramatic?" I teased.

"Beg pardon?"

"Never mind. Come on, help me clean this floor." I moved my rag across the dusty wood once more, my cheerful mood replaced by determination to finish this task by lunch. Aloysia hesitantly scrubbed, stopping to admire her reflection in the bucket ever so often. I was about to scold her when her eyes roved back once more but the banging door caused me to look up.

De Perix came into the room in a hurry. His face was quite pale, his hair unkempt and messy, almost as if he had run his hands through it several times. He made his way back to the others, shaking his head at any questions, glancing about the room, lingering on one of the boxes.

I followed his gaze, counting the luxurious spaces as I went. _Box Five_.

I tilted my head at the lonely box in the far right corner. As I tried to figure out what was so frightening about the plush red seats or gold handles I saw a flash of black. I drew in my breath. _It's that man again_. A small flash of white soon followed. I leaned forward slightly, trying to make it out more clearly. Then I felt the ground under me give way.

I glanced down as the bucket of water and I tumbled onto the wet wood. Sputtering at the soapy taste that filled my mouth, I ignored Aloysia's giggles and moved my eyes back to the box. The white and black flashes were gone, but the red curtains swayed slightly.

"Do be careful girl!" I looked over to the managers to see De Guise snarling at me. I rose to my feet, my skirt sopping wet and curtsied, before rushing off to find a mop. _Who is this person who sneaks about in the shadows? _


	10. The Unwritten History

**Chapter Nine **

I finished the work on the stage almost single-handedly. After I had cleaned up the spilt water, my face bright red with embarrassment; I had rushed back to the kitchens to refill the now empty bucket. Upon entering the hot room I ran to the back and out the doors to the airy stable yard. The green pump was gleaming slightly in the light and I placed the iron bucket under the spigot, watching the clear water fill it to the brim.

I bit my lips and glanced about, my mind still reeling. I was still more then a little unsettled with what I had seen in the auditorium. This time however, I knew that there was no mistaking it as a shift of light, or a dark shadow. The very fact that I had seen the apparition twice was enough to confirm that. I let out a ragged sigh. Noting that a wisp of my hair had pulled itself from my cap, I amused myself by blowing it back and forth with my breath. Soon I could procrastinate no longer and pulled the now heavy pail into my arms.

"Sophie, do you know where the soap is?" I asked coming back into the kitchen. My youngest stepsister turned to look at me, her deep blue eyes shining.

"I think mama said that it was in the upper left hand cabinet. No not that one, the one closer to the door." She watched me rest my palm on each wooden panel, not wanting to leave the cooking meat and vegetables that she was watching simmer. Finally she nodded and I put the bucket down on the orange tiles, reaching up to open the tiny door. With a small creak it gave way and I poked my head in, glancing over labels for the soap.

It was positioned towards the back, the bright blue label giving it away. I rose walking over to the counter top, grabbing a tin cup from the mass of pots and pans hanging over the wooden space, before returning to the cabinet. I quickly spooned out a cup full of white powder, dumping it into the waiting water, watching as the two substances mixed in a blur of white and blue.

"Thanks Sophie. Would you mind putting this in the sink for me? I need to get back to the stage before Aloysia wanders off." I said, tossing my golden stepsister the tin cup, which she caught and placed beside her.

"If you left Aloysia alone then you do need to get back. Oh and mama said that since the laundry had been taken care of all you need to do in here is scrub the dishes. Madeline and I will help if you need it." I smiled at her, nodding my understanding, and she waved at me before I shut the door.

Hauling the bucket up the main steps, I tried to steady myself before re-entering the room. I wasn't quite sure what I would do if I saw that figure again. Promising myself to focus my attention only on my tasks, I nudged open the door.

The auditions were still underway, but it looked like now they were focusing more on men then on women. A rather round looking tenor was singing, his face stretched from all the expression that he was putting on it. I smiled lightly at the man, walking as quietly as I could to the side stairs. I spied Aloysia off in the wings talking to a rather handsome man. He was tall and very well built; the suit he wore was tailored to show off his powerful shoulders and thighs. His attire alone declared him to be more then just a simple stagehand, yet he didn't look as influential as the men out in the auditorium. And he was no match whatsoever with the managers.

Rolling my eyes, knowing better then to try and call her back, I knelt down on the hard wooden stage once more. Pulling a dripping rag from the bucket I resumed my scrubbing. I worked all though lunch in that large room. Wanting to keep my dinner date with Meg and the ballerinas I had worked frantically, even snapping at a few of the singers to move so I could clean the place where they were standing. I polished most of the front seats in the auditorium while the others departed to break their fast that afternoon. But I went nowhere near the balconies or the boxes.

I had begun to climb one of the winding servants stairs to the upper level when I thought I heard the now familiar swish. Promptly turning, I ran back down the narrow steps, not even glancing behind me till I was back on the stage.

I was running a thick cloth over the golden backs of the red seats when I was grabbed from behind. Gasping, I whirled around. The graying blonde beard and malice face of Cabartte greeted me. His eyes were dark, glazed over with naked lust. I found myself trembling slightly and tried to break from his grip, but his strong hands gripped my arms, twisting them painfully behind my back.

"Well, well, if it isn't the little maid. Tell me girl, what is your name?" His voice was low and thick with the bittersweet honey that coated his every word. I felt my temper rising at his audacity.

"Elizabeth Brett, Monsieur." I spat thought-clenched teeth, pushing him as politely as I possibly could.

"Ah that's right, Elizabeth." He pressed his face closer to mine and I could smell his rancid breath on my turned cheek.

"Look at me, Elizabeth." I hesitantly raised my eyes to his. He grinned and pressed me painfully to him. I cried out slightly as he released one of my arms to run his hands over my thigh.

"Hush now! Just let me look at you. Pretty eyes my dear, quite a lovely shade of green." He looked at my cap then back at me.

"But I can't recall what your hair looks like." He took his groping fingers off my leg and made to pull the garment off but I pulled back again. This time I caught him off guard and he stumbled slightly. Grabbing my cleaning cloth, I tried to dash away from this crude man, but all to soon I was grasped once more. This time his hand came down like iron on my wrist.

"Keep still I say! Unless you want that pitiful little family of yours out on the streets." He hissed against my ear, pulling me to his chest. I closed my eyes as I felt his hand move up my thin vest, pinching at my stomach, slowly moving upwards. I gasped again, I pushed against him again, but I could only do so much. _Oh God help!_

"Elizabeth?" I was pushed roughly forward, a cry of pain coming from my lips as I hit the hard floor. Cabartte growled lowly in his throat, looking to see who had interrupted him. I glanced up as well, nearly crying with joy when I saw Meg rounding the corner of the wings.

Her face, which a moment before had been laughing, darkened when she saw the sight in front of her. Her slate gaze traveled from me, sprawled on the ground, to Cabartte's livid face.

"I...Monsieur...is..." Meg began, her features cloudy.

"What do you need of the maid girl?" Cabartte asked, his voice poison. I gave Meg a pleading look, and she drew herself up, her face now set in lines of determination.

"Elizabeth is wanted in the kitchen. I came to fetch her, or should I tell her mother she can not come?" Meg replied her voice just as venomous. Cabartte snarled at her. Then with a slight swirl of his cloak, he turned on his heel and stomped up the aisles to the main doors. Meg and I remained where we were till the large door slammed shut.

"Oh, Elizabeth!" Meg cried, rushing down the steps to me. I tenderly lifted myself on my arms, still feeling quite shaky. Meg helped me to my feet, crooning softly as she led my bent form to one of the chairs.

"I think I shall be alright in a moment." I said as I sat, placing my head in my hands. She waited silently by my side, lightly rubbing my back as my breathing calmed and my tears stopped. I looked up at her kind face smiling, telling her with my eyes how glad I was that she had come when she had.

"How long was he doing that to you?" She asked. I shook my head at her question, not even sure myself. She nodded and gave me a hug, letting me know I was safe. I hugged her just as tightly back.

"Thank you Meg. I don't know what he would have..."

"Shhh. It's alright Elizabeth. Just try not to think about it," came her comforting response as I released her, nodding my consent. She rose, offering her hand to help me to my feet as well. Once I was firmly established on the now polished wooden floor, I remembered her offer of dinner earlier.

"Meg?"

"Hmm?" She responded, leading me up the slightly slanted walkway to the main staircase.

"Does the invitation to dinner still stand? I don't think I can spend another moment in this opera house." I replied, helping her to open the doors. She turned to me, a small smile still playing on her lips.

"Of course."

Several hours later I was dressed in full corset and lacy blue gown, my hair free of the restrictive cap, ready to get out of this mysterious place. Glancing at myself one last time in the vanity, I pinched my cheeks to put some color back into them.

I opened the door cautiously, glancing about the empty dark hallways. When I saw that no one was coming I allowed myself to step out. Making my way swiftly towards the kitchens, I paused yet again when I smelt candle smoke and incense. _He's here_. I looked behind me, but only utter darkness greeted me. Picking up my skirts, I ran. When I finally reached the safety of the warm kitchen I halted my headlong flight, panting slightly.

"Elizabeth? Are you alright?" My stepmother's soothing voice drifted to me. I looked up at her. She was standing by the stove, her hands on her hips, dark hair framing her face. Her eyes were filled with questions, and she glanced past me, looking out the open door into the hallway.

"Nothing. I just was spooked a bit in the darkness." I replied, lying though my teeth. She narrowed her eyes, a hurt look passing over her features. I ducked my head walking past her.

Never in all my years of knowing her had I willing lied to her before, and I could tell from her now stiffened form, that she knew I had.

"Elizabeth! Are you ready?" I pulled my attention to Meg, who was waving to me from the doorway that led into the main entrance. I smiled at her, and then turned to my stepmother.

"Is it alright if I go?" I asked, my voice a whisper.

"Of course Lizzy! Go on now. Lord knows you need the relaxation. Go!" She grinned at me, the moment of pain and hurt gone. I rushed to her and gave her a swift hug. She had always been there for me, and I was glad of her support and love, now more then ever. I dashed over to Meg, who linked her arm with mine, pulling me out onto the twilight streets of Paris, a group of laughing ballet girls following.

The little café where we ate was a simple one. It was an old home that had been renovated into an eatery several years before. The food that was served to us was a hardy dinner of roasted beef and hot bread. The other girls in our party were as open and friendly as Meg. Though a few were slightly flighty and giggly, for the most part their kind spirits enchanted me. One of them, a dark beauty named Juliet, found the tales I told of my homeland to be quite interesting and pressed me further whenever the opportunity arose.

"You said that in England there are banshees, did you not?" Her light voice rose in suspense, she herself sitting precariously on her seat. She looked like she might simply topple over into her soup.

"Well I've never met one in person but some of my county neighbors said they heard one once. You'll have to ask my stepsister Madeline more about those stories. She knows them all like the back of her hand." I replied laughing at her wide eyes.

"Madeline?" Meg questioned. "Is she the quiet one?"

"Yes. She doesn't take very well to strangers I'm afraid. But she's the sweetest child once you get to know her." I replied, thinking of Madeline's quiet loving nature.

"I'm sure she is." Meg stated, smiling at me, raising a small toast to me before she drank her mug of coffee. All too soon it was time to return to the opera house to prepare for a new day. I walked slowly as our merry little troupe made it's way along the streets, lamps flaring out paths of light to follow. Meg lingered with me, walking by my side, content to simply share my quiet mood. I sighed slightly, remembering the dark figure that hung about in the flies and hallways, the intoxicating smell of candle smoke and exotic spice floating about my senses.

"Meg," I began, slowing my pace even more. "Do you know of anyone who wanders about the opera house in the dead of night?" To my surprise she glanced at me in shock, stopping our walk reaching a hand out to halt me as well.

"Elizabeth, are you sure that your seeing something? It's not just..."

"A trick of the light?" I interrupted. "No it's not that. I also saw the figure of a man in the flies. There's someone wandering about and I'm frightened." Meg looked up at my face, as if to judge if I was trying to play some sort of trick on her. When she was satisfied that my questions and fear were genuine, she began to talk softly, continuing along the road slowly.

"Have you heard the stories as to why the opera house had to be fixed?" I shook my head, wondering what relevance that could possibly have on the figure.

"Well," she began, linking her arm with mine again. "Four years ago, a girl who was a very dear friend of mine, was kidnapped by a man known as the Phantom of the Opera. Christine Daae was her name; she was an aspiring singer here at the Opera Populaire. My mother had taken her in when her father passed away when she was seven; she and I grew up together. Then one day, the leading soprano, La Carlotta, was nearly hit by a falling backdrop. Then with out warning Christine, by my mother's request to the managers, was allowed to sing that night for the performance.

'Oh, she sounded like an angel. I was so proud and yet so jealous of her. Later that night, I went to find her. She was in the chapel where she normally went to light a candle and pray for her father. She was sitting there on that cold stone floor, her eyes filled with unshed tears, yet when she looked up at me her face was so radiant."

Meg paused in her tale lowering her head at the memory, sighing slightly. Then she continued on, pulling me along a bit faster, so we would not be left behind.

"She told me that she had been visited by an angel. I was doubtful of her claim, knowing that her father had filled her head with tales of the supernatural when she was smaller, often telling her a story about an Angel of Music. Christine said that her father had promised to send that very angel to her when he died. And here she was, nearly weeping with joy that the angel had come.

'Little did we know that the angel was a man who was manipulating her, who loved her so much that he would go to any lengths to have her.' "But the man hadn't counted on the young Vicomte de Chagney. He and Christine had known each other before her father died. Raoul was his name, and he is the most wonderful man that ever walked this earth, so full of charm and kindness. Soon Christine and he were as much in love as any young couple could be. But the Phantom would not be so easily thwarted. He even killed a stagehand.'

'Joseph Buquet was hanged during the performance of Ill Muto. Then the Phantom appeared before everyone at the Masque. Oh, he was beautiful and terrible. He came in all red, a death head covering his face. But still Christine was not his. Then came the fateful night of Don Juan. It was an opera written by the Phantom himself, and God was it passionate. Playing the role of Don Juan, he acted out his love and lust for Christine there on stage. "Then before the whole audience, Christine pulled off his black mask. Oh Elizabeth, it was horrid. The right side of his face was red and you could see the long bone of his jaw, and..."

Meg paused, shuddering at the mere thought. I was listening to her every word, my mouth hanging open slightly, my breathing ragged.

"He took her. They disappeared before our very eyes. Then came the chandelier, it pulled itself loose from the ceiling, crashing down. And the fire, I had never been so frightened in my life. Christine was gone and the whole opera house seemed to be like the very gates of hell. I went down to his lair with the mob, but it was empty when we reached it. We searched and searched but found nothing. Then we left. A few of us took some of the scattered items. I even found a half white mask that I took to show to my mother. She burned it soon after. I only knew that Christine was safe when I received a letter from her from America. She and Raoul are married now, but from what you just told me, it looks like the Phantom might not be as dead as we thought him to be."

"So..." I began after a few moments. "The Phantom is the person who lurks about in the shadows."

"Oh do be careful Elizabeth! I don't think he'll do anything to you, but still. After what happened today..." Meg cut herself off, shaking her head, clutching me tighter to her. We traveled the rest of the way in silence, each pondering what the apparent re-emergence of the Phantom of the Opera meant for the future of the Opera House.


	11. The Letter

**Chapter 10**

It was late when we returned. The opera house was as silent as a grave, not even the pipes were groaning. Stopping at the main stairway, we whispered our goodbyes and Meg hugged me to her once more.

"Do promise to tell me if you see him again, I do not want anything to happen to you. Oh! That reminds me! You should not wander about alone, not only because of him, but also because of what that horrid patron did to you."

I stopped abruptly, my hands clutching the sides of my dress. I could still feel his hot breath on my neck and I cringed at the very thought of his body pressed close to mine.

"I..." I began, but found that my voice could not form the words. I pursed my lips and closed my eyes tight.

"Oh Elizabeth! I am so sorry to remind you! I was just worried about your safety." Meg replied, leading me towards the kitchens. I leaned into her supportive arms, letting her help me walk. _This is pathetic Lizzy! Pull yourself together! _

"I'm quite well, thank you." I said pulling from her and smiling weakly at her concerned face. I tilted my head upwards a bit, pulling my shoulders back in determination.

"I will be sure to have Aloysia or one of my step-sisters accompany me around for a few months. I can only hope that this sick infatuation will end soon."

"Yes," Meg sighed walking along side me, her grey eyes were hazy with question.

"What? Do you not think he will stop his advances?" I asked, trying to see past her hidden emotions.

"I would hope so. But,"

"But what?" Meg turned her gaze on me, and I studied her, as she seemed to size me up in one swift motion of her eyes.

"Men like him don't easily give up such a target as you." She stated and dropped her eyes to the walls around us. I bit my bottom lip, finding her meaning much quicker then I'd like to have. _He won't stop his advances till he's had me. And he's not used to hearing no either. _

"I understand. But I have no position, no money. There is nothing he could possibly bribe me with." _No that is not true_. My mind railed. _He knows very well that you can be persuaded if your family's position is threatened. _

"That is good. Then he won't be chasing after you forever. Though my fear is that he likes the chase more then the prize it self." I nodded at her last comment, a new wave of fear coming over me. _Let us hope not_.

When we reached the dark kitchen, Meg and I said our goodbyes. She invited me on another outing sometime next week, which I happily accepted. Closing the heavy wooden door behind me, I peered into the pitch-black room.

There was not enough light for shadows to be playing either across the floor or in my imagination, so I confidently strode to the counter. Reaching out with my hands to find a box of matches, my hand ran over a slightly rugged piece of parchment.

I let my fingers play the role of my eyes for a moment, as I ran them across the paper. Soon my hand came to a tiny rise in the path and I slowly let my fingertips trace out a death's head. I could feel the empty sockets and the grinning teeth with intense acuteness.

I pulled my hand back, knocking over the matchbox in the process. Cursing slightly, I knelt down on the cold stones and hunted for one. Grabbing the small wooden end I rose and scraped it across the counter top. The harsh yellow flame burned brightly, cutting through the dark room with astonishing speed.

I scanned the room, looking in every corner, before I brought the match to a small candle. There was no one in the room. Nothing was disturbed; nothing was not as it should have been. Then my eyes caught sight of the paper that I had been examining.

It was a small envelope, yellow in coloring and looked quite old. The bright red molded wax, gleamed up at me. The shadows making his empty eyes look like they were shifting about, his teeth flashing. It was then that I noted that the seal was broken.

Right where the teeth should clamp together, there was a small break. I slowly reached out my hand. Pulling the letter into my waiting palm, I worked on pulling back the front flap. The wax seal made the parchment sink slightly under its weight. But I had caught a glimpse of a spidery scrawl, written in black ink. The first line read, _Dear Madam Mason_.

I glanced up, then back down, hoping that I had misread the rather childish lettering. After repeating this a few times, I discovered that I had not. _But why on earth would someone want to write to Aunt Maria? Is it that Phantom? _I chilled as I remembered the jingling in her pocket this morning. _Who is this man? Why is he doing this? If it were the Phantom who had paid her to talk to the managers then that would explain where she had received the gold. But money alone would not work on Aunt Maria. She would demand more than gold to do someone else's bidding. _

As I began to pull out the black-rimmed letter inside the envelope, a small scraping sound of a door being opened caught my attention. I whirled about, looking towards the slowly turning brass handle.


	12. A Verbal Battle

**Chapter 11**

My heart was pounding painfully in my chest as I watched the reddish gold ornate handle move. _Dear God, it's him _kept racing through my mind as I made a mad dash to replace the letter on the table where I had found it.

The door opened slowly, scraping across the stones of the kitchen floor; inching forward so not to be heard by anyone. A long dark shadow soon stretched across the tiles, covering my face and the left side of my body. My arm was reaching out, the letter in my hand, my fingers just loosening enough to let it drop; when a loud voice called my name.

_"What the devil do you think your doing Eliza?" _I gasped and on an impulse, accidentally clutched the letter to me once more. I froze and watched as the creaking door finally opened. I nearly sighed with relief at the sight of Aunt Maria.

She stood on the threshold of the doorframe, her expensive deep red gown swirling about her. I was about to say something when the twinkling of her jewelry and the oddness of her attire made me clap my mouth shut. _Why is she wearing her best dress, and at this time of night? _

I was still gaping at her when she strode in the kitchen, peering at me harshly down her nose. The rich silk swished as she waddled forward, and her many rings shone in the dim candlelight. I watched her circle me in her awkward manner, then with astonishing speed she gripped my wrist.

I cried out, as much in shock as in pain, as her sharp diamonds cut into the sensitive flesh of my chapped hand. She pulled the letter from my grasp with her other hand, all the while her gaze intense and burning into mine.

Once she had the yellowed parchment in her grasp she threw me backwards slightly and I bumped into the rough counter. I didn't move as she opened the letter and quickly scanned it's contents. When she had finished she looked up at me once more, her flashing eyes boring into mine.

"How much did you read?" Her voice was soft, quiet and icy. I knew better than to make a cheeky remark when she didn't rant.

"I didn't read it, madam. I only noticed it on the table and was about to pick it up to see who it belonged to when you walked in." I lowered my eyes in respect to her authority, hoping it would feed her pride enough for her to not be as harsh to me in the next few moments.

"I see..." She replied, looking hurriedly at the large mirror in the corner. I tilted my head slightly at her glance, pondering as to why she would have looked over there. I shouldn't have shifted my gaze, as I once again felt the tight, clammy grip of her hand.

When I tried to pull away, she dug her nails into my skin, drawing a faint line of blood. I hissed softly at the pain, and allowed her to drag me to a corner of the room. She released me and moved back towards the mirror once more, her eyes warning me not to move.

I watched as she examined the large reflecting device, poking at the sides and peering in to it as if she would see something beyond her hazy reflection. After a few moments of her strange inspection she turned back to me. I stood up a bit straighter, my corset cutting painfully into my spine as I did so. She moved like a cat, her steps calculated and slow, back to where I was. She means to frighten me. _Well I won't give you an easy time of it dear aunt! _

"Elizabeth Brett, why are you in here? And snooping through my things?" I had just opened my mouth to defend myself, when she decided to prattle on. Her next few comments chosen especially to get me vexed, each word carrying it's own poison.

"Why? Why do you choose to go through my personal things? Did your father not raise you correctly? I always told Jacqueline that she was making a mistake in marrying that high-spirited man. He was unemployed for the longest time, no structure at all in that heap that he called a home! And worst of all he filled you girls' thoughts with the new radical ideas! Wanting to vote! Good lord, what next? He was a fool, and it looks like you will turn out the same way."

I was trembling with my rage, my whole body stiff and locked. _Don't rise Lizzy, that's just what she wants you to do! _

"He put his nose where it should not have been, and look at what happened to him. Boom! He got his comeuppance for doing that to my dear Francis. Telling the foreman that he was stuffing his own pockets with the extra profits. Buying bad machinery! Hump!"

I was beginning to feel quite lightheaded, a dark wave of anger coursing through me at every word that she said. I had to say something! "My dear aunt," I began, letting my voice cut through her own.

"My father was a good and honest man. I wish that you would not abuse him so, especially seeing as he has just passed away."

She laughed; that horrible cold-hearted hussy laughed.

"Oh! Honest is he? Mark my words girl he was a liar, and your brothers were no better then pimps."

"Madam! I will not stand here and take this kind of talk from you! You have no right, no right at all to speak in such a way! If you wish to insult my family then you leave me in an open path to do the same to yours!" I cried, my temper getting the better of me.

"Oh! Well then, if you Brett's are not all liars and thieves, then why did you have my letter?" She asked, waving the parchment about in front of my face.

"I merely wanted to know why it was sitting so haphazardly on the table. If you didn't want anyone to see it then why was it sitting there! For all to see nonetheless! Don't you dare put the blame on me you horrid woman! I was just trying to find who to return the letter to." I said my voice deadly and low. She was silent for a moment, her breath heaving in her fury. Then without a word she turned and went back to the mirror.

She looked in once more, this time her gaze becoming more demanding. I looked also when her bulk moved enough that I could see it as well. _Why on earth would she be looking in there? _The mirror reflected the dark room around us, no more no less. _Surly the Phantom is not hiding in a mirror. _I thought with what normally would have been humor, had my mood not been so dark.

Then she turned to me. She pursed her rouged lips and talked to me in her normal tone, loud and overbearing.

"If I find that you have read this... never mind you told me you did not. I am quite put out with you Liza dear, your comments were entirely uncalled for." She paused, looking at me. I swallowed another harsh comeback, and took a deep breath. Once she was sure that I would not snap back, she continued on.

"Aloysia will only be able to help you for a few hours in the morning. We have an appointment with that wretched Giry woman for her." Aunt Maria was about to quit the room, her steps having taken her to the large doors once more, when she thought of something else.

"Now my dear, you do know that Aloysia is of a delicate nature, and that too much hard work will cause her great pains in her back? So do try to let her rest often? I hope you will for you will find that if you do not take care of her, someone with much more power then I will deal with you." She smirked at my confused look and rounding on her heels, she swept out of the room.

_What on earth did she mean by that?_ I wondered.


	13. The Prima Donna Returns

**A/N: So sorry this update took so long! Hectic week and weekend. **

**Special Thanks to CelticHeart for another wonderful job of editing. And to Katie for being my first official update beggar! Sends tin of cookies **

**Chapter 12 **

After my run-in with Aunt Maria, our relationship, which had never been good, became nightmarish. She did everything in her power to make things difficult for me. This really was not anything new, but now that I was out in society I had more to lose. I noted changes only a few days later.

Prior to this, no one paid attention as I went in and out of the kitchen. Now the whole place would go silent, not even the scraping of spoons moving against bowls could be heard. I felt every eye on me. But I was never sure if it was just my imagination or a reality. The dreaded quiet would only last for a few seconds at most then the noise would grow up again. I also noticed whispers and secretive conversations that would end as soon as my tread was heard close by. It made me feel alone and helpless until I remembered my stepfamily and my new friends. Their loyalty was more then I could ever hope for, or expect.

Madeline and Sophie had begun surprising me in the hallways with little goodies from the kitchens: cookies or a new roll, hot from the oven. Renee would finish up her work early and dash off to the library and bring me back the newest books on romance or adventure. My stepmother just gave me space, knowing that I needed time to think. She always seemed to know when I was desperate for a hug or attention, which she gave willingly.

Meg was also a great comfort. She had taken on the task of making sure Cabartte could not find me in the theater. Often we would go out to buy new supplies for the opera house. I loved the time that I got to spend out in the open air.

I had always been the type of person who couldn't stand to be cooped inside for any given amount of time, and a brisk walk down to the meat stalls or grocer was an event that I looked forward to with great anticipation.

However nothing could make me forget Aunt Maria's threat to me that night. _You will find that if you do not take care of her, someone with much more power then I will deal with you_. I tried to piece this tattered puzzle together, but I would simply find myself in the same confused state that I had started in.

Once all the singers, dancers and stage crew were hired, things began to fall into a nice routine at the opera house. However, my stepmother's premonition that the cleaning staff would merely be our small family had indeed come true.

The managers had come into the bustling kitchens one mid-afternoon, looking very out of place among the plain linen dresses and stained aprons. My stepmother had greeted them warmly, brushing a few stubborn strands of her silky brown hair back into her loose bun. They had only stayed for a few moments, their voices low rumbles to my ears. My stepmother responded just a quietly back, but I could hear a note of tension in her tone. When the last one had bowed his exit, my stepmother turned to me, her eyes narrowed in anger.

"They expect only seven maids to operate as the both the cleaning and cooking staff! They've never done a hard days work in their lives, that much is apparent. And to top it off Maria is to be placed as head maid! No more use to the five of us than the managers themselves. And I doubt any ballet tart will help us with the washing!"

I stood very still, my hands wet from the laundry on my side. Running my tongue thoughtfully over my upper lip, I tried to think of a way to get us out of this situation.

"It would be better," I began, choosing my words carefully, "if Aunt Maria was allowed to believe she had all the freedom she wishes in her new position."

My stepmother was not at all pleased with this idea.

"Let her! Good Lord Lizzy! She'll be no better then a tyrant!"

"Exactly." I replied, my eyes twinkling with mischief. "If we let her have her way she will think she has the better of us, then she'll not bat an eye at our own dealings. She'll be a head maid in title only. She has no clue as how to run such a building as this opera house. So, we will merely be appearing to follow her, when in reality, we shall be the ones making all of the decisions."

Giggling, my stepmother pulled me to her. She hugged me tightly and kissed the top of my cap affectionately. "Wonderful Lizzy! Though these plots of yours always make me wonder what kind of scheming mind I am dealing with at times. Nevertheless," she said, tapping me playfully on my nose.

"You do have her figured out. For all your quiet ways you certainly have learned to observe people quite well." I smiled after her as she let me go, making her way back to the hot oven. She cast a look over her shoulder at me.

"I'd get back to work dear. If we leave Aloysia alone for too long she may self-implode in her boredom."

As the weeks passed, I began to get into a nice routine of how things could be effectively done so that I would have time left over to read or walk about with Meg. The laundry was promptly washed and hung by Madeline and Sophie, if my stepmother could spare them, by seven o clock.

As time went on, the cuts on my hands had begun to harden, the skin less prone to breaking at the heat or hard wooden turner. Though it still took me several hours to get all the colors sorted, washed, and primly hung to dry, I had made an agreement with the staff as to what would be washed on certain days.

Tuesday and Thursday were the days I washed the finer clothes, the velvets or richly adorned costumes of the operas new singers. On Wednesday and Friday I would throw the rest of the linens in, hurrying to have each to their respective owner by Saturday morning. Mondays were days when my whole schedule was dedicated to cleaning the operas auditorium and main staircase.

I would scrub the hard wooden floor clean of the many scuff marks made by the dancers, and then proceed down the steps to the lower seats. The plush velvet was easy enough to dust. Keeping the dust off proved to be a problem as the massive chandelier poured the thick, musty stuff down at least twice a day.

I had tried to obtain a key from the manager De Perix, but he always seemed to be on edge when anyone asked him to go to the upper levels of the opera house. He sputtered and twitched his little brown moustache at me and shook a large finger and told me that some things were best left alone.

Ever since Aunt Maria had pulled him aside that morning a few weeks ago, he had been a nervous as a trapped cat. Often he would glance around him or at the elegant box five, his eyes wide with something that I dared to call fear.

It had been a long while since I had seen the figure, but I was sure that he would be back. Something told me that I would soon see much more of him as the days rolled steadily by. The whole opera seemed to be holding its breath.

None of the others seemed to pay it any mind. The new dancers and singers were already beginning to start on a show. They had decided to do one of Verdi's more popular operas, and I could hear the soaring vocals and uplifting strings of the orchestra even when I was outside in the stable yard.

Monsieur Rayer often would be up at the crack of dawn, calling for a rehearsal when the sun had just barely peeked over the large windows. From what I could tell, he was a very energetic man. He was always bouncing on his toes, even when there was no music to be heard. Often he would run his hands through his already ruffled grey hair, making it stand on end, looking very much like Beethoven in the picture books. I couldn't help but have the upmost respect for him. He had defended me when I had needed it the most that first morning, insisting that Cabartte find another maid to wait on him at the opening gala. And now every time he passed me in the hallways or noted me cleaning, he would give a polite bow and cry out a small friendly comment.

He was the only man to treat me so. Most of the other men at the opera, singers and stagehands alike treated our family with indifference, often acting like we were no more then furniture, a simple addition to the plain landscape of passageways and walls.

Yet through it all my sisters and I managed quite well. And my ache of loss of my father and brothers seemed to fade a bit more as time moved on.

One Monday morning I was running the mop and polishing rag over the lovely gold and green staircase, when Aloysia appeared at my shoulder. She was munching away on a toffee as usual, her lips smacking loudly with each bite, annoying me to death. I looked up at her, standing there peering down at me as if she had never seen anything like me before.

"What are you doing Elizabeth?" She asked, plopping herself gracefully down on the steps, spreading her light green spring dress about her.

"Cleaning. What does it look like Aloysia?" I replied, focusing my attention on a hard scuffmark to try and push past my anger at her laziness.

"Oh! I see." Aloysia said, pulling on her golden ringlets. I sighed and sat back on my heels, pulling a few wisps of my hair back into my cap. She just kept on gazing at me. I raised my eyebrows slightly, and studied her as well.

She and her mother had indeed taken the reigns of my little family, putting on airs and the like. Aunt Maria had even taken to carrying a large set of keys about with her, though she often never left her room. I had never figured out what she had been doing in the kitchens that night, nor her odd comment. As far as I knew, she had merely been bluffing to scare me.

I turned my attention back to my golden haired cousin. _Perhaps, if I play my cards right, I can find out what she knows_.

"Well Aloysia," I began, turning back to my work, but positioning myself so that I could see her face. "What have you and your mother been up to? It has been so long since I've seen you." I decided to stop with that, though there were many other questions that I wanted to ask her, I didn't want her to short out on me.

She paused for a moment, no doubt to run through what I had just said. "Mama and I have been very busy. I now have a position in the ballet, and mama says it will only be a matter of time till I'm one of the singers. But she says everyone starts out as a ballet student and works their way to the top. And that has been taking up most of our time."

I nodded. She seemed to be in an open mood today. I decided to play my wild card on her hopeful she would be stupid enough to answer it.

"I do wonder, were does your mother find the time to help pay for this? I know that Madam Giry does not teach her students for free." I held my breath, slowly moving my cloth across the steps.

"Mama says she has met with someone who can help me. He has sent us several letters, though she's never let me read them. They tell her were to send me, and I go. I hope to get a good patron through my dancing, and mama says he can help."

I narrowed my eyes. "Is it wise for her to trust this man?"

"Oh yes! He sends us money with each letter... Oops!" Aloysia halted her words, clamping a hand over her mouth, nearly sending her toffee down her windpipe. I refrained from my laughter, as she wheezed for a moment then looked up at me apologetically.

"I promised I wouldn't tell." She said, her voice childlike in her protest.

"Aloysia I don't think it is wise to trust this person, if something were to happen..." I began, but was rudely interrupter by her gasp of anger.

"He warned us you would be this way! He said that you would try to convince us not to trust him!" I gaped at her, at a loss for words. _Warned them about me? _

"Aloysia..." But I was cut short again, but this time by the door. A chilly blast of the spring winds poured in, sending my rag flying and knocked my mop over. I squinted at the open door, trying to get my eyes to open against the strong force.

Standing there, her form outlined by the morning sun, was a tall, hawk-nosed lady. She strutted in, her pink dress and large ornate hat swaying with her walk. A group of men and women followed her, a few holding dogs or boxes of make-up. They all looked flustered, and yet each had a strange look of rapture on their faces.

"Who are you?" The lady asked, her voice holding a hint of a Italian accent. I rose quickly and made a swift curtsy to her. Her deep brown eyes ran over me, as if she was trying to decide if I was worthy enough to be known by her.

"I am Elizabeth Brett madam, one of the maids." Obviously I had failed the test, for she merely raised an eyebrow at me, before yelling behind her.

"Nadia! Come here!" A rather large lady who was holding a small black poodle stepped forward. Her hair was pulled so tightly into its bun that I was shocked that her whole face wasn't distorted by the sheer force of it. She bowed to the Italian lady, her spectacles nearly taking a tumble off her face.

"Madam?"

"Give this girl the dog, you follow me. Girl! Are the managers in there?" I blinked in surprise as I was handed the warm little dog, and tried to remember where De Perix said he would be.

"Did you hear me?" She cried her voice becoming nasal and overbearing. I winced slightly, as did the black dog in my arms.

"I..."

"Madam Carlotta!" Once again, I was saved by Monsieur Rayer. The lanky man was standing at the top of the stairwell, looking down on the small party. I could have sworn I saw a look of utter dislike roll across his normally neutral face, but in the next moment it was gone.

"Ah! Maestro! How good to see you! Tell me do you know where the managers are? This simpleminded fool here was no help at all to me." Carlotta cried, her hawk-like gaze flashing to me.

"Well, I'm sure she was just a bit intimidated by your presence my dear. Come, I will take you to them. Though they are different from the last ones, I am sure they will be delighted to see you." Monsieur Rayer responded, gesturing for them to come up the stairs. Carlotta smiled and swept her large hoopskirt behind her, making her way to the concertmaster, who held out a arm for her.

Her train of cronies made their way up as well, but the other woman who was holding a dog, this time a white poodle, placed the creature in my arms as well. Now I had two squirming, yapping creatures in my arms. I sighed and adjusted them in my arms, trying to calm them.

"Hey! Do take care of them!" Carlotta called to me. I curtsied in a reply, and as soon as they were gone I placed the dogs and myself on the steps.

"Good Lord! What a horrid woman." I heard Aloysia say.

I looked up in surprise. I had totally forgotten that she was there. Yet she still sat in her same position, chewing on her candy, looking quite content.

"I wonder who she was." I said, trying to help a excited poodle into my arms. I laughed as the two fought over who was to sit on my lap. They were quite adorable dogs, and I petted their soft fur and curls as I stared after Madam Carlotta.

"She was the lead singer a few years back." Aloysia stated, wrinkling her nose in disgust at the barking balls of fluff in my lap and arms. I looked up at her, rather amazed that she knew something of use.

"Was she the lead soprano that Christine Daee replaced?" I asked, still playing with the poodles. I rubbed noses with one and scratched the others tummy.

"Yes. They say she has a beautiful voice."

"Do they? I had always heard otherwise." I replied pulling my rag from the black dogs mouth, who thought that a delightful game and growled and tugged back.

"Do you have to play with them?" Aloysia asked, moving her dress from being trod upon by one of the dogs.

"I like animals. And besides I doubt that they've gotten any other attention from her. They're really sweet." I said. Aloysia merely huffed at me and sauntered off, no doubt to find a more interesting pastime.

A few hours later, I was back in the kitchens with my two new furry friends in tow. The cleaning had been a disaster, but I had been amused nonetheless.

Once I had finished rinsing off one step an eager set of paws would dash by and I'd have to clean it all over again. Soon I had given up the hope of even coming close to finishing anything and had made my way back to the warm kitchen.

My stepmother laughed as I came clumsily past the large doors, the dogs making figure eights at my feet, nearly tripping me. Madeline and Sophie had rushed over immediately, grinning and giggling as they played with floppy ears and soft paws.

My stepmother shook her head at the mass of aprons and fur tumbling about on the floor and went back to her cooking with a large smile on her face. "Do you miss Lady and Bruno?" She asked as I came next to her, grabbing a spoon and stirring a boiling pot of stew. I nodded, remembering my father's two sleek greyhounds.

He had been so proud when he had won the two racing dogs in Kent. He had bet for the last dog, the one who came in behind the large pack following the toy rabbit, for his new family. But instead of one loser, that day there had been two. So he had brought us home the two red spotted dogs and we had become fast friends.

But when we came to France after the deadly accident, we had lent the dogs to my father's brother Thomas. Still, they didn't feel like they were ours any longer, being an ocean away in England. I sighed and watched as Sophie handed the white poodle a small scrap of meat.

"What are their names?" Madeline asked, petting the black dog curled comfortably in her lap.

"I'm not sure. The lady who owns them is a singer. I just hope she doesn't become cross with me for taking them in here." I stated, shelling a few green beans and watching them plop into the stew.

"I think I shall call the white one Missy. She's so friendly and loveable." Sophie said, tossing a small piece of meat for the newly christened Missy to catch.

"That sounds nice." My stepmother said, coming over herself to pet the little dogs. I smiled as they barked and bounded about. Then a small knock came at the door. We all turned to look, even the poodles becoming silent for a moment.

They didn't wait for us to respond, maids weren't given that privilege.

A small boy stood there, he gazed at us then remembered why he had been summoned. "I need to get Miss Brett. Er... Elizabeth Brett." He stuttered, his face turning red. I smiled good-naturedly at him and stepped forward.

"I am Miss Brett." He nodded and gestured for me to follow him. I waved goodbye to my stepmother and Madeline and Sophie who had stopped playing with the dogs for a moment to see me off.

He led me down the hallway to the managers' office, for we passed the fancy wallpaper and gilded doors, till we came to the large room with the mirror. Just as the last time all the managers were sitting around, but this time, in Cabartte's place Madam Carlotta was resting gracefully in the chair behind the desk. She smirked at me when I walked in and I narrowed my eyes at her.

"Miss Brett," came Monsieur De Perix' voice. "We need you to clean out one of the lead singers rooms, the one with all the dead flowers and the large mirror. Madam Carlotta must have it ready by tomorrow evening." I nearly choked. Meg had told me about that room. It was where the Phantom had carried off Christine for the first time.

_I was to clean her room_.


	14. What lies behind the Mirror

**A/N: Sorry for the delay on this chapter! I got sick short notice and didn't feel much like doing anything but sleeping. Hopefully the next chapter should be up by Monday. Hope everyone has a good weekend. **

**Chapter 13**

It was late afternoon when by the time I had finished polishing the staircase. I admit I had had taken my sweet time, I didn't want to go into that room. So I had moved my mop ever so slowly across the tiles, and had not cleaned as carefully as I normally would have. I had even dusted carelessly in places, so when De Perix came by; his peering eyes narrowed to slits as he examined my work would have to shout at me to come and re-do the job.

Still, I couldn't avoid the task forever; there were only so many times one could wipe clean a railing. All too soon, I was making my way down the dimly lit hallways, only a peek of the orange setting sun still gleaming through the tiny windows. As I made my way further and further back into the opera, towards the finer dressing rooms, my heartbeat began to increase. The shadows became longer and deeper, passageways turned off, leading further into the mighty abyss of the house. I began to wonder if I would ever truly know my way around this maze of rooms, doors, and hallways.

I dragged my mop behind me, desperate for some sort of noise to distract my flighty imagination. I had just finished reading a horror novel earlier that morning at breakfast. The tale of the malformed giant of a man being created from the remains of the dead still played heavily on my mind. Shelly's marvelous and descriptive Frankenstein had indeed taken me to new literary heights, and taken my imagination to a new world. A world that was dark and deadly. _Much like this hallway, my mind joked_, trying to make light of my apprehension.

I soon found myself walking along a long row of mahogany doors. Tiny numbers were printed above the paneling and I began to count them down, looking for room number one. I assumed that it was the room that dead-ended the hallway, the doorframe being larger then any of the others.

When I came up to it I looked about. I was still expecting for someone to jump out at me at any moment. The long balconies that ran above the main hallways were silent, and the shadows didn't move, but instead brooded silently. Still I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was there.

I looked out into the darkness. But a small noise inside the room caused me to stumble back. Good God. Was that a voice? I stood very still, hardly daring to breath. My ears were straining, listening for the smallest hint of sound. Sure enough I head the mummer again. It was a man's voice, low and indescribably beautiful. It was both harsh and gentle, and it sounded so lost. If only I could just make out the words.

I took a hesitant step forward, lightly moving over my bucket and rags. I pressed my ear and hands to the cool wood, feeling guilty to be caught doing exactly what was expected of a maid. But the effort was worth it. His moans came again. _Christine_.

I pulled back, my eyes scanning the door, as if I expected it to give me some answers. _Who could be in there_? But this question was outweighed by my pity for the absolute bitter loneliness I heard in this man's tone. I might have been content to stand there all day, just trying to pull this mystery together, if a small scratching of nails on wood hadn't caused me to jar myself uncomfortably out of my thoughts. _Good Lord, what now_? I braced myself against the door once more, and heard a strange sliding noise. It almost sounded like wheels on a metal track, but before I was sure the small black poodle had hurled himself at me.

"What are you doing here sir?" I asked him, scooping his little body into my arms. He merely licked my face and sniffed at the air in front of the door. His small eyes were alight as his nose quivered; he tilted his head at me when he had finished his inspection. "I have no idea either. But I must say, it's nice to know that one isn't insane. So there is, or was someone in there." I looked back at the door. If I walked in whoever was in there might still be there still, just waiting for me to enter.

Adjusting the poodle in my arms, I pressed an ear to the wood once more. There was no sound, not even a hint of breathing. I pulled back, wrinkling my nose in question. Only when another set of clicks from eager paws was heard from the hallway did I push open the door.

Missy the white poodle dashed in, her small head up and her feet flying at an alarming rate. Rolling my eyes at her mad dash, I put the other dog down and grabbed my things. A small blast of roses hit my nose, and I stood stock still relishing the sent. Sure enough, just as the managers had said, the room was full of dead flowers.

Most were blood red roses, or at least they had been. Many were a deep brown color, their blooms still refusing to fall from the withered stems. But a few looked newer, though wilted just the same. A small black ribbon was tied to these roses. And I reached out to run the silk through my fingers. As I did so, Missy, who had been snooping about at the mirror that dominated the room, snarled.

I quickly dropped my hand and looked up at her. She was poised for a fight, her hackles raised, and her white sharp teeth were gleaming in the dim lighting. She was growling at the mirror. My eyes quickly moved from her tense little body to the gold-rimmed reflection device, so like the one in the kitchens. Only I didn't just see my own reflection.

A half white face seemed to be leering at me. I gasped and took a step back.

**Erik **

_How dare she_! What the devil had I done to her? My rage at Carlotta, at seeing someone who so reminded me of the days when my angel had been here had nearly driven me mad. I had watched from one of the hidden panels of the main hall when she came in. She still apparently thought herself very much the Prima Donna.

Her little pack of followers still flocked after her, doting on the mistress who was so demanding and spoiled in her ways that she had become intolerable to all who knew her. Oh how I had fumed! So much for Madam Giry's assurance that she would not be back. Not even the memory of the murder that had killed her lover Piangi that night of Don Juan would hold her back from flaunting herself to the world. I should have known better. And now to top things off that maid was in here. _Elizabeth Brett_, my mind spat out. _How dare she_!

She was a clever girl, far too inquisitive for her own good. I had to hand her that, and I knew that she would find out who I was as soon as I had caught a glimpse of her peering up at me that morning when she had first arrived. But I hadn't fretted long on her; indeed I had forgotten that she even existed till she opened the door.

I had been sitting on Christine's small bed, my head in my hands, trying to drown myself in the sent of roses wafting about. The memories of her always came on so strong, nearly knocking the wind out of me. But this time it had been worse.

I had gotten by for weeks, so distracted by my new plan to resurface that I had actually pushed the thought of her to the back of my mind. Not even my dreams were of her. For awhile I had missed my every thought being consumed by her, but then my mind had settled on how to frighten that idiot of a manager De Perix into giving me absolute control over this opera house. No longer would I just be confined to the lower levels and dark passageways, instead I would rule it all. The ghost manager.

And he would help me. Already much of his funds had gone into keeping me quiet about his affair. I had lapped up the news when I heard Madam Giry talking about the pretty woman De Perix was often seen with. She was no better then a whore, and De Perix's wife had always been of a rather jealous nature. I could remember reading about her famous tantrums in the paper that used to be left around the house when I was still the resident ghost four years ago. All I could hope for was that the years had not softened her.

So using this as the backbone of my threats, I had sent that simpering Mason woman out to warn him. And he had responded beautifully. With in the hour, 20,000 francs were at my disposal. I had sent some to Madam Mason, but I soon realized that I would have to give her more then gold to win her alliance in this game. She doted on that simpleminded daughter of hers, and only a few words to Marie Giry had sent the dimwit into the ballet corps.

She wasn't lacking in looks, I could give Aloysia Mason that much. But as for her plans to become a great singer? A snarling cat in heat sounded better. Still the idea of her precious daughter being an opera star was all I needed to persuade her to join my side. At first she had wanted proof of my existence, which I declined to give her at first, but then when she threatened to drop all her support as my go between, I had little choice.

Lucky for me that maid had shown up when she did. I had listened with interest as the two sparred verbally, Elizabeth taking some heavy blows to her pride at first. Then she had, to my surprise, collected herself and called Mason's bluff, her voice as deadly as ice. I had laughed despite myself, she had spirit, and she could be disastrous to my plan if she convinced her aunt that I was not a wise person to make a deal with.

And now here she stood. Looking at me, her eyes wide. But she didn't run or scream. Instead she simply remained still. I narrowed my eyes as I took a small step moving out of her view. I watched as her gaze grew less intense and she moved her head about, every sense alert. I waited on bated breath for her to leave, and when she did my plans would be shattered. I gritted my teeth in anger. _Like hell I'll let this chit ruin my scheming_. I clinched my hands together, and studied her again, I watched as she stiffened and turned back to the mirror.

She could feel my gaze. I let my eyes rest on her delicate neck; it would be easy enough to snap. But what would I do about that family of hers? Perhaps I could somehow get her to submit to me. My mind churned thought after thought, and yet she still stood there. Trying to see what she thought she had seen behind the glass.

I needn't have worried about her. She turned on her heel and picked up one of her rags. I couldn't help but watch in amazement as she began to clean.

**Elizabeth **

I could smell him. The sent of candle smoke and incense attacked my senses with a brutal force. Even when the white face had moved from my view, I had remained were I was, listening. Instinct told me to run, but something else told me to stay. I followed the other strange sensation, my mind railing at me all the while.

I picked up my rag, pushing it into the water, getting it soaked. Then began to run it over the dusty tables and bed. I sneezed lightly at the thick mass of dust that rose, and I thought I heard a small chuckle, but made myself ignore it.

I was in danger. If I made on wrong move, it could possibly be my last. I don't know how I knew this, but I didn't dare test my theory.

I moved all the dead flowers to a large bag, hating the small crunching sound of broken petals and leaves. I mopped the floor and cleaned the wardrobe, taking my time, double checking things, making sure I had cleaned everything as well as I possibly could. I avoided the mirror for as long as I could, but once I had dusted the dresser for the tenth time I moved to it.

I held my breath as I reached a tentative hand out to run the cloth over it. Nothing happened. So I moved quickly, polishing the glass and gold frame, giving the sides a good scrubbing to get rid of the dust. I paused however when I reached the left side. There was no dust. It was clean, the gold glimmering.

I tilted my head, and ran a finger down it. I looked into the mirror once more; I saw nothing. But incense and smoke once again assaulted my nose. I head a small breath being let out and watched as a gloved hand came forward.

The black leather fingers were long and powerful, and I bit my lip to keep from screaming. It came closer and closer.

Then a large tramping of feet came from down the hallway, and the hand was gone. I leapt back from the mirror and moved to the center of the room. Less then a moment later Madam Carlotta was standing in the doorway. Her face was set in lines of anger, and her eyes swept about the room. Apparently nothing was at fault and she nodded to me, her Italian accent a harsh jar on my ears. "Very good. Now get."

I curtsied quickly and picked up my bucket and other items. I pushed my way past her cronies, a few letting out indignant remarks at my rudeness, but I was beyond caring. I had to get out of that room.

The yapping of the poodles followed me all the way to my room, where I tossed my stuff down heavily on the floor, slamming the door behind me and throwing myself on my bed. I curled myself into a small ball, enjoying the darkness of my small space. I simply lay there, my mind and heart racing, until I fell into restless dreams. Where a gloved hand reached for me, only to miss and for myself to go hurtling down an endless black void.


	15. A Nice Order

**Chapter 14**

Something bright was shining on my face; my eyelids were bathed in a mix of deep red and gold. Wincing and groaning, I turned over on my bed, cradling a small pillow in my arms. I sighed when the light became less intense and burrowed deeper into my blankets though the room was quite warm.

I could feel my tired muscles relaxing, every inch of my body becoming limp. I shifted my weight, rolling over onto my belly. Something about my carefree attitude at the moment felt very wrong. I tried to remember yesterday and found that my mind was foggy, nothing coming into clear focus when I tried to think back. Yet a small voice told me to get a grip on my memories. _What had happened last night? _

_Black. No. A hand perhaps? Yes something about a hand. _

Then it all came rushing back. My eyes snapped open, and I bolted up to a sitting position on my bed. My breath was coming in small pants, and my heart seemed to be trying to beat its way out of my chest. _The mirror. And . . . that . . . gloved hand. _

I had paced for half the night when my dreams had become too much for me. I closed my eyes, the sharp images of me falling down that endless ravine was still too much for me. I tried to take a calming breath, the air moving slowly through my shaky lips.

I looked about my room. Everything was in its place, the pictures, the wardrobe. Nothing was out of the ordinary. _Well what were you expecting Lizzy? For that thing to come in here and tinker with your trunk? _I rolled my eyes at the thought.

I was about to lounge back down on my bed when the full horror of my situation hit me. I leapt out of the bed, my feet hitting the icy floor hard. _Good Lord! What time is it? I should have been up hours ago! _

I quickly wiggled my way into my light red and black dress. I rolled the slightly frayed sleeves up to my elbows and threw on my apron, tying a tighter knot then I normally would have in my hurry. Once I had my shoes on, I grabbed my cap and rushed out into the dim hallway.

Pulling my hair into my starched cap, I walked briskly down the weaving passages. _Does any light ever get in here? _I thought as I had to sidestep a small table to keep myself from running into it.

When I finally reached the kitchen doors, I flung them open with more vigor then I normally did. I was still working on pushing every strand of my hair into the cap when I heard a small gasp.

I pulled my head up, my eyes narrowed. I nearly stumbled, trying to decide whether I should be amused or horrified at the sight that was before me.

Renee was clasped in the arms of a long, lanky boy. The two of them had stopped what must have been a very passionate bout of kissing, for a light lipstick stain ran from the boy's mouth to his right cheek. Renee had the decency to blush and gently pry herself away from her lover before turning to me.

I smiled lightly when her honey brown gaze met mine. Her hair was tousled and her apron and dress were wrinkled in some very odd places. Sighing slightly, she grinned back and turned to her man.

"Go on Peter. I'll see you later, I'm terribly sorry for this, but I think we can trust Lizzy." She smiled at the boy, who glanced quickly up at me before nodding and pacing his way to the door.

I halted him when he was striding by me. "You may want to wipe your face." I stated, handing him one of my handkerchiefs. He turned a delightful shade of red and bowed his thanks before slinking his way out of the room.

I was still grinning when I turned back to Renee, who was peering at me intently. I raised my eyebrows at her and tilted my head downward in mock disapproval.

"Renee DeFlur, you ought to be ashamed." I said and she laughed and shook her head at me.

"Oh! Honestly Lizzy, it's not like you've not known that we were seeing one another. What with you and your sly ways. I think that even Madeline has known for a few days now. And I know how close the two of you are. Perhaps you've been sharing information" she said, jutting out her hips and crossing her arms to her chest.

"Until I walked in a few moments ago, I had no idea that you had a new man here at the opera." I said, pouting.

"Don't look at me that way! I was going to tell you, I just . . . " She stopped and raised her hands in defeat. "I...think . . . oh . . . You'll never believe me!"

I walked over to her and gazed up at her face, a small smile playing on my lips. "Do you love him?"

She looked at me then, her eyes confused and deep. "I'm not sure what I feel. When I'm with him, I just get so lightheaded. And he's so charming and gentle Lizzy."

"I'm sure he is Renee. But who is he exactly? I can't seem to place him as someone who works here."

Renee gave me a slow cat like grin. "He's very well off you know. And his father is quite a powerful man."

I snorted lightly at her and tugged on her sleeve. "Oh come on Renee! Who is he then?"

"He's De Perix's son. His name is Peter De Perix. His the youngest of five boys, so he stands to inherit only a fraction of his father's money."

I clucked knowingly at her. "The youngest? Are his older brothers doing well in the world?"

"Oh yes! Very well indeed. I don't think that his father will object to us seeing one another do you?"

I shook my head. "I highly doubt it. Youngest boys don't tend to mean much to fathers with successful elder children."

Renee sighed pleasantly, her whole face glowing. "Good! Lizzy, do me a favor, would you? Don't tell mama for a while, I want to be sure of his intentions before they meet. And I want you to get to know him as well. Oh, I do hope you like him!"

I laughed and hugged her. "I'm sure I will. But next time let me meet him when he and you are less disheveled. I don't think he was all that pleased to make my acquaintance a few moments ago. "

Surprisingly, no one seemed to notice my tardiness that morning. Only Monsieur Rayer gazed at me with his eyebrows raised when I walked in the auditorium after I had left Renee in the kitchens. But he said nothing to the managers, and I went about my tasks as usual.

The new opera that was being rehearsed was absolutely beautiful, both to watch and hear. The only qualms I had with it were Carlotta and the new leading alto. Carlotta's voice was too powerful. The vibrato rang unpleasantly.

The alto, on the other hand, had far too nasally a voice and none of the gusto that was expected of that voice range. She was a rather scrawny woman who put on nearly as many airs as Carlotta herself. But she had yet to perfect the diva stance in the new house, and Carlotta would fight her tooth and nail if she even hinted at trying to outshine her.

The men, however, were an entirely different story. The tenor, baritone, and bass were quite remarkable in their talents. Their rich and lush tones blended together perfectly when they all would sing. And unlike the women, there was no argument over who would be the best, which I admired.

Monsieur Rayer also seemed to be getting into his true element. The Verdi opera Nabucco was a challenge for any conductor, but Rayer took it in remarkable strides. Often I would pause in my cleaning, a broom or rag in hand and simply stand still among the red velvet seats and listen.

Nabucco told the ancient bible story of the Hebrews' captivity in Babylon. The sadness and utter despair that echoed in the many chouses nearly brought me to tears. In a way I could sympathize completely with them, for they were lamenting of the loss of their homeland. I too was far from where I had grown up and I often wondered if I would ever see the grassy knolls of England again.

My youngest stepsister had taken to flitting about in the auditorium with me when I cleaned just so she could hear the opera. And once she had all the major parts learned, she would hesitantly raise her own rich alto voice to sing with them. _This would be perfect for Sophie. _

I had always been in awe of her talents when she was younger and would sing in the small children's choir at our church, but there was a new tone in her voice. With age, it seemed, came perfection. And she put so much love and adoration into her sounds. The opera's theme really let her talents soar.

The months flew by at the opera. Spring soon blended into a hot and muggy summer, where every possible window was pushed open to let in a friendly breeze. It was during the long dreary months of June and July that things began to look up for my little family.

The chores had been laid on even more, what with parties and balls that the dancers and opera singers attended, and more and more laundry came flying down the shoot to the washing room. For a few days I was beside myself, for no sooner would I finish drying a load of lacy dresses and velvet waistcoats than a new batch would be sent down to me, with a message that it was to be finished by that evening for a dinner.

Often my nights were spent in the kitchen, dozing by the roaring fire with a book while the clothes dried. I must have lost half my weight in sweat alone. It was one thing to have a nice blaze going in the dead of winter, but it was another matter entirely in the middle of summer.

There were my other duties as well. I had long since given up hope that Aloysia would come and help me during her breaks as she was supposed to. So all the work was mine alone. Renee would help when she could but she was often busy cleaning backstage and in the many dressing rooms. Her time off was spent with Peter.

The boy was quite green in the ways of romancing a woman. Often he would just pace about, waiting for Renee to finish up her jobs so that they could go to one of the many cafes that were around the opera house.

He was a fiery red headed boy, quite lanky but if you looked closer you could see some strength in him as well. All in all he was not the kind of man who would catch my eye, my tastes ran more toward a powerfully built man with a darker appearance. Still, he was very polite to everyone in the family, and you could tell it wasn't simply out of a desire to get on our good humor. He was genuinely polite and open with us. My stepmother doted on him quite a bit when she put two and two together and discovered his feelings toward her eldest daughter.

Much later in the summer, when August was slowly chilling into a pleasant September, Madame Giry began to make a friendship with my stepmother. It seemed the two women had a lot in common. Both had lost husbands to tragic accidents and both had a wonderful inner strength that radiated about them.

Sophie, who at first was wary of the stern ballet instructor, soon grew to like the older woman and could be seen trailing after her about the house. Madame Giry, was delighted by my golden haired stepsister. It also gave Sophie a new excuse to be among the singers that she so adored.

At first Madame Giry had tried Sophie out on the ballet corps, but her talents were indeed lacking in that area. She was naturally a clumsy child and would catch her feet in a bind more often than not. Still Madame Giry tried, even if it only resulted in Sophie's ungraceful plop on the hard wood floor of the stage.

But it was not Sophie who came to be the favorite of Madame Giry in the ballet room. That was Madeline.

Late one afternoon she and I were ironing shirts in the kitchen and we could hear the faint tinkling of the grand piano in the auditorium through the open kitchen doors. At first we had hummed the now familiar tune to the opera, but Madeline soon began to twirl about as she pulled the shirts down from the line by the fire.

Her dark brown hair, so like her mother's, seemed to float in the air and she raised her long arms gracefully as she made a small turn on her toes. She looked like a flower being tossed about in the wind, the colors of her dress swirling and mixing together as she moved.

I could remember hearing the telltale stomping of Madame Giry's cane. But it wasn't until I had turned to place a newly pressed waistcoat on one of the tables that I saw her.

She was merely standing in the doorway, her grey and brown hair tousled by the small breeze coming from the open windows. But her eyes were alight with a strange fire, the grey orbs shining intensely at Madeline.

Without a word to me she strode in the kitchen, her cane pounding on the tiles till she came to the whirling dervish of my stepsister. With a small tap on her shoulder, Madeline turned, her face shining with the exercise, a smile on her lips. But the smile became a small frown when she saw Madame Giry instead of me.

"Madame." She whispered, her curtsy lower then usual. But Madame Giry grasped her chin, pulling her face up.

"You dance beautifully my dear. Why didn't you tell me? You will be of much more use to the corps then that dratted cousin of yours." Her voice was harsh, but the underlying tones were friendly and warm.

Madeline blushed and shook her head. She always became nervous when a stranger talked to her. But Madame Giry just smiled.

"Would you consent to joining the ballet corps my dear?" Her French accent tickled their way along the words.

Madeline looked up quickly, and I thought I saw a flash of pure joy come over her little face. Then it blended into her smile and I wasn't sure if I had seen correctly.

"I would be honored Madame."

Thus, our luck began to turn. Madeline now was employed as a cook, a maid, and a ballet dancer. Our paycheck made a considerable leap. Oh! She was something to watch as I cleaned, her movements were so fluid and easy. Though she was only a member of the younger group because of her age, she still could outdance many of them.

At first, after her meeting with Madame Giry, she wasn't sure if she could muster up the courage to dance in front of people. But Madame Giry was patient and encouraging with her, and she gained Madeline's trust.

But not everything was going as well as it could have for me. It had only been a few days into September when Cabartte made a surprise visit to his opera house. He was supposed to have been in Italy during the unbearable heat of summer in Paris, but he had returned early.

I had been passing through the auditorium, my bucket and mop in hand when I heard my name being called.

At first I had thought nothing of it, for it was De Perix who stated my name. _How many times do I need to clean that box before he is satisfied? _I thought as I raised my eyes to his.

I nearly dropped everything I was carrying when I caught sight of Cabartte. He was standing with his broad backside to the wall, smiling like a snake. I couldn't help my sudden intake of breath and had to force myself to stand still and not run from the room.

His grey moustache twitched slightly when he saw my look of terror. "Ah! The maid Elizabeth Brett! Well how fare you my dear? It's been a long time. And I still think that you've been avoiding me. Now why would you do that my child?"

I chose not to give him the pleasure of an answer and moved my gaze to De Perix, who was avoiding my eyes carefully.

_Oh God. What has he done?_

"Well, my dear," Cabartte continued, his voice dripping with bittersweet honey. "It turns out I shall get the pleasure of having you wait on me at the opening night gala in December."

I nearly choked. "Sir?"

"Yes. Lovely isn't it? And this time I hope you are not as averse to my attentions. For I have missed your pretty face." He stated as his eyes roved over my form. I tried to hold back my snide remark and gripped my bucket even harder.

I felt betrayed. I felt like a piece of meat that was auctioned to the highest bidder. And I most certainly didn't feel like a free maid who had control over her fate. Instead, to keep my position and my family's honor, I had to endure this treatment which I normally would have fought tooth and nail against.

I looked at Cabartte's near drooling face as it traced my small curves. _So he thinks to have me? Well this time Monsieur I won't be afraid to fight back. There's no way in hell your getting at me without a fight._

I now found that I could not escape from the man, no matter how I tried. If I went out to the shops or market with Meg on a Saturday or cleaned one of the singer's rooms, he was there. This time however he didn't grope at me, he just whispered in my ear, his nasty breath drifting down my neck. Or he would shove me into a dark corner and just look at me, the evidence of his excitement hard on my leg or hip. It was repulsive, and became worse as winter set in.

The days were shorter now and the blazing fire in the kitchen while I dried clothes became a comfort. The days drew nearer to the production of the opera that had been in the works for nearly a year now.

I knew the parts backwards and forwards, and was able to find any note at the drop of a hat. I found my anticipation growing along with the singers and stage hands. I was called to clean the auditorium more and more, for everything had to be perfect for the reopening of the Opera Popular.

But the house seemed to be holding it's breath for something else. I soon began to wonder about the Phantom once more. It had been months since I had seen any sign of him. No one walked about on the flies at odd times, no one tried to sneak up on me in the hallways. He was ominously inactive.

But something kept telling me to be on my guard. With all the hidden talents that my younger stepsisters were showing, something didn't feel as it should have. _They were attracting far too much attention to themselves, and they were bound to catch someone's eye sooner or later._ In the early days on December something told me that all hell was about to break loose.


	16. The Singer

**A/N: Thanks to everyone for reviewing! Special Thanks once again to CelticHeart for editing, and for saving me from the horrid "Mary Sue" incident. :A thousand hugs:**

**Chapter 15**

**Erik**

December and the cold months of winter had set in with a vengeance. The narrow, winding underground waterways of my home were now covered in a light mist of ice and I was running out of supplies once more.

Where in the old days I could simply walk above this hell hole and purchase what I needed in the dead of night; I was now forced to stay below. For the tale of the Phantom of the Opera was not one of magic and wonder anymore. Now it was the story of a deranged man who prowled about the lower levels of the house, watching and waiting for his next victim. Everyone was on their guard; my white mask and haggard appearance would hardly go unnoticed.

My candle supplies were down to the old worn stubs, my suits and trousers were in tatters and my once luxurious cape needed mending in the worse way. It seemed the only thing that I didn't need was food.

Though even that proved to be a challenge for me to obtain at times. Where before the kitchens were empty by the devil's hour of midnight, that dratted maid now stayed in the room till well past three.

I would fume and rage silently behind the mirror as she paced restlessly about, a book in her hands, the only sounds the crackling fire and the gentle swish of a page being turned. I wanted to simply stride in and throw her from the room so that I might get some nourishment. _Why did she have to stay with the garments? She could go to bed and fold them in the morning. Devil take that woman! _

Once she was gone, I would be free to press the mechanism, the mirror quietly sliding back on its small track, and hoard all that I could. A block of fresh cheese, a small plate of meat, a few loaves of stale bread. That was my meal for several days, and I tried as hard as I possibly could to make it last. Often I would only have a hunk of bread covered with cheese for breakfast and skip lunch all together.

There was nothing I could do, however, for my clothes. I had tried many times earlier in the year to steal a shirt or waistcoat. But every time my hand would reach up to the line where several of the white clothes waved in the wind, someone would come out of the washroom, halting my scheme.

Luckily for me however, not all of my other plans were to be foiled as easily. I had that woman and the idiot of a manager under my thumb.

Money poured in, day after day. I was richer than I had ever been with my previous conservative managers. Yet I could do nothing with it, which irked me greatly. All I could do was pass the daily shipment of fifty francs to Madame Mason and let the rest gather dust on my desks. My moods were becoming blacker and blacker as time went on and the situation remained the same. I felt trapped in my new state. There was nothing I detested more than feeling caught between something that I couldn't change.

As if my situation was not bad enough, there was that dratted opera. If anything could put me in a foul rage, it was hearing that. It was quite hard to miss it, what with Carlotta screeching to her higher notes, all the while being pampered and told she was the best, no the greatest, soprano that had ever graced the world of opera. Christine's delightfully light and airy voice seemed to have been forgotten by all but me with the passage of time.

Every time Carlotta scooped up to a shaky note I could hear Christine's pure tone hitting it and making it soar. _How I missed her voice. I missed her graceful dancing when she was just a ballet rat. I missed our lessons, hearing her test her skills and finding that she could do quite remarkable things with her gentle range. Oh Christine._

Then that horrid alto would sing. Compared to her weak and strained voice Carlotta was a pleasure to listen to. To top that off, she had no sense of musicality either. Where most would try to put an expression of some kind in their tone, she simply tried to hit the right notes and rhythms. _What happened to the longing and pure joy that could be found in singing? Where were the raw emotions that could make one's heart stand still and let their soul soar to new heights_? This woman was an idiot and yet here she was, performing for the so- called "cultured" noble class.

Rayer tried his best. He always did. But this season it seemed he had even less talent to work with than usual. The men were remarkable and had the gusto to sing anything that was asked of them, but it's not the men that the crowds flock to see. The women make or destroy an opera house. If they can't handle their notes, or their voices aren't pure sugar and honey, then all is lost.

I had awoken that morning with an aching head, my ears still ringing from Carlotta's sharp cadenza the night before. But something inside me still called for me to go into the auditorium, to try to listen and enjoy. Perhaps my body still longed for human nearness, to feel that I was not alone in the world after all.

Or to hear singing, no matter how it sounded, to try and lift my broken spirit. For no matter what hell this world would put me though, my love of music would always outride all else.

As I walked up toward the upper levels, I could hear several broken notes and hard piano chords being played harshly. That alto was having her pitches banged out yet again. I cringed inwardly as my frayed cloak swept along behind me, cutting around the corner to the small hidden passageway by the main staircase. _The performance is only three weeks away and yet the idiot still can't find her part. Perhaps a backdrop would fix that matter._

I looked for a moment through the mirror by the door, my eyes scanning the room quickly. That Elizabeth and her younger stepsister were cleaning the staircase again. The younger girl was dusting on the tip level of the step, while Elizabeth was further down. She cleaned vigorously, her arms moving fast over the steps, a few strands of her hair falling about her face.

The tune for the song "Home" from the Verdi opera drifted lazily about the room. The violin and other stringed instruments of the small orchestra were being played remorsefully. Then the lonely notes of a harp took over, waiting for an accompaniment.

It was the alto's solo moment, the cry of a lost Hebrew woman standing at the foot of the King of Babylon, pleading for her peoples' release. That stupid woman who was charged to sing it, put no emotion in it. She could have been singing about love, rapture and hope and no one would know the difference.

I was about to move onto the small door that led into Box Five from this oppressive passageway when I heard a low rich voice. I halted, one foot poised to take a step forward. My mind felt numb, my whole body began to tremble slightly, excitement and hope pulsing through me. _Christine. She's returned. _

Then the full tone hit my ears again. Christine didn't have such a richness in her voice. She was air and light. This voice was darkness. Yet it was beautiful.

The emotion that I had been longing for that alto to express was overflowing in this woman. Each note was gentle and unhurried, each held instant a moment of spinning loveliness. I moved to the mirror, my breath held in my lungs as I looked for the voice. My mind still instinctively looking for Christine with her long dark curls bouncing about her as she stood looking in at the new opera.

I scanned the space. No one by the door, no one was coming from the auditorium. There was just that maid Elizabeth and the chit.

The little girl was pulling a mop covered in soapy water over the green tiles, but it was she. She was the one that was singing. Her lips formed the Italian hesitantly, but each word was true and her voice carried about the room. _Good God. _I took a step back, then forward hoping that my ears and eyes were not playing a trick on me.

Yet she was still there, her mouth was moving slowly. The notes were still hitting my senses, it was she that was singing. Then the violin began to play the ending strands and she hummed softly along with him, a small smile playing on her face.

Then an idea popped into my distorted mind. I let it bounce about in my imagination for a few moments, then leaned back into the wall with a small smirk.

If this opera failed then I would lose all my hopes at ruling over it once more. There would be no chance of humans wandering about anymore, and I would be forced to waste away. Both my memories of better days and my dreams of becoming truly human would fade into dust.

_She can help me. But how could I force her into serving my purposes? If she were the one to sing, she could save both the opera and my chances. _

I watched as she stood, picking up her bucket and moving toward the bottom floor, dunking her mop into the water and tracing the patterns of the marble as she cleaned. Elizabeth looked up at her and smiled, the girl laughed and playfully splashed the older woman with water.

_That maid will try and interfere again. And this time she won't be so easily dissuaded. Perhaps I can find something that will force her to play into my hands. A lover? There had to be something. There always was with girls her age, so young and foolhardy._

My mind was still churning at the ideas as I moved off into the auditorium with that little girl's voice still playing in my ears.


	17. A Distant Shadow

**A/N: Sorry for the delays, crazy, crazy week. In the next chapter we will have some Erik and Elizabeth confrontation. :Grins sheepishly: **

**Chapter 16**

**Elizabeth**

The days passed in and out slowly as autumn passed. It was so much like it had been when a year ago when I had stood with my family shivering on the docks of the French shoreline. Our eyes peering into the foggy gloom, trying to catch some glimpse of what our lives would be like in this new place.

Yet it all felt so strange. It was almost like I was merely observing my life from afar, not really living it.

When the late nippy days of October had come around, some months earlier, I had noted my twenty first birthday. And yet, as I stood in the kitchens that wild and stormy evening, folding linens and hanging dried flowers about the room, I didn't feel anything.

My whole body and spirit seemed to be in shock. _Has it really been a year since I've heard your voice Papa? And Thomas, Scott, and Will, has it been that long since we were climbing the tree in the backyard? _I hated to admit it, even to myself, but I still would watch the door every evening; just waiting for them to stroll in, laughing and talking as they always did.

_I was twenty-one._

Even when Meg bustled in early from her dance lesson, her face flushed, her golden locks streaming behind her, a small wrapped gift in her arms; my heart and mind refused the fact that I was a year older.

I felt like I was breaking inside as I smiled and took the present from her. _It had really happened. There was no chance that things could ever go back to the way that they once were._

Yet when I could have been relieving my mind of the past to someone that I trusted, here I was grinning like a fool, my tears refusing to fall from my tired eyes. I had acted the part of the carefree Elizabeth Brett who still had her father and three older brothers, not a girl in a strange land with a different culture and language, being pursued by a lustful man.

_So much has changed. I have changed. _

I was once so open, wearing my heart on my sleeve, not caring who knew what about me. Yet now my heart was too tattered and frail to be pinned onto any sleeve. And suddenly it mattered very much who knew what about me, for now whatever I said could be used against me.

I had begged off holding the party until eleven, and I excused myself once my small cake of cherries and creme had been eaten by my friends and family. I had said my head hurt and my dinner had not set well, when in fact I didn't think I could hold up much longer without falling to pieces.

The hallways and stairs were dark and dreary as usual, but tonight I didn't care. Nothing could have made me turn back to that kitchen filled with laughter and joy. Not when I felt as if my whole life was coming down around me.

Pushing open the small wooden door, I could feel the hot flow of tears stinging my eyes. But still I held them in.

I grabbed a small piece of tender from its box and set myself to lighting my candles. Once the final golden stick of wax was burning brightly with its newly acquired ball of fire, I collapsed on my small bed.

I waited then. I waited for my tears to fall in heavy streams, for the scorching hot liquid to pour down my cheeks, to help jar me from my present state. Yet nothing came.

I pulled my head up, but my cap and my light golden brown hair fell about my shoulders. I turned my neck slightly, craning my head toward the small mirror on my dresser.

The face that stared back was long and tired. The green eyes held none of the former warmth and laughter that they once did. I looked older, wiser, like a girl who has done too much hard work before her time. I didn't look like Elizabeth Brett.

I glanced down at my hands. The skin was slightly pink from today's load of laundry, but the oils and healing solutions that I washed them vigorously in every night had done their job well. There was no chapping or broken skin, though they did not feel as soft as they once had, they were not too rough to the touch.

_But why? _I thought as I began to undress, pulling off my apron and rough over dress till I was standing shivering and bare in my shift. _Why can't I cry? _

I ran my hands down my sides, pulling lightly at the soft material of the garment. _Have I just lost all touch with whom I once was? Where has she gone? _I silently asked my reflection. _How can I get her back?_

The dark winter days became colder as the early days of December dawned. Where at one time we could hang the clothes out in the warmth of the summer evenings, now we had to pull everything inside, starting a roaring fire in the kitchen, or risk freezing the delicate clothes solid in the chill outside.

I have always become rather short-tempered during the colder months, and my ill humor began to affect my work and my social life. I would find myself snapping at people or not scrubbing the clothes or tiles as well as I once did, and it drove me crazy that I could do nothing about it.

Even my stepmother began to lose patience with my attitude.

"Lizzy! Stop stomping about. You're making me feel ill. And for heavens sakes don't yell at your aunt anymore! You know how she gets."

I didn't respond but continued to pace, my feet making soft scuffing noises on the stone floor.

My stepmother came over to me and placed her arms about my shoulders, pulling me to a halt. I looked up at her, and her honey brown gaze seemed to take in all the confusion and hurt that I'd been feeling for the past few days.

"Lizzy, I don't think your father or your brothers would want you suffering over them. I know that they would want you to enjoy your life to the fullest. You are twenty-one! You are entering the prime of your life, make the most of it!"

She turned me about so that I was facing the door. "Go! Walk about. Don't stay down here and brood, it does you no good. Go outside, go explore this maze for heavens' sake. Look for some shortcuts. Lord knows I have enough trouble just finding my way to the kitchens."

So I took my black mood and wandered about the opera house. My self-pity consumed me, as walked, and I tried to push it back, but all it did was move further up in my mind.

I had stormed about the opera like a caged beast for hours, avoiding people, moving from floor to floor, even reaching the roof where all the powerful statues perched, watching over the quiet streets below. Then I had ventured about the hallways, letting the narrow passageways take me where they willed. Now I had come to the long hallway where all the Prima Donna's lived.

I walked to what was now La Carlotta's room, the lonely and dreary place where I had heard that voice crying out. I paused at the large door, gazing up at the brass one on the panel at the top. _Was that the person who was writing all the strange letters? _

I closed my eyes, letting my lids cover the world in darkness. I was once again in that room, by the mirror the large gloved hand reaching for me. I pulled my eyebrows down, furrowing my brow. _Perhaps . . . _

I heard a small groan of wood and a slight swish from behind me. Starting I wheeled around. My eyes made a quick scan of the upper rafters and the space down the hallway. Nothing.

But I couldn't shake the sensation that someone was in this space with me. I shivered slightly and thought I could feel a pair of eyes studying me, trying to pinpoint something about me. I rolled my shoulders back and made a hasty escape down the hallway, but the small creaks followed for a few feet. They stopped as I moved onward, but I fancied I could still feel the eyes boring down my back.

I felt slightly unnerved by these strange feelings and decided to use some of the pale light from the winter sun to dry a good number of damp shirts.

Dragging the sopping ruffles and tailored collars outside, I set myself to the task of pinning them to the lines hanging from the wooden panels. I felt less intimidated by the openness of the stable yard and the quiet whinnies of the horses in the stalls a few feet back helped to calm my pounding heart.

Soon I had several rows of clothes hanging and blowing gently in the chilly breeze. I moved silently among the lines, shouldering my shawl about me, and pulling at wrinkles and creases in the fabric. As I moved to pull a small shift over a line, I thought I heard a heavy footfall from the washing room.

I paused, my hand suspended in the air, every sense alert, but heard nothing. I chuckled at my fear. _Your ears are playing tricks on you Lizzy. _

I moved down another row, sandwiched between two layers of white shirts. I hummed quietly to try and calm my nerves. As I stretched a man's shirt over the taunt line, I tried to ignore the footfalls.

I moved again, this time closer to one of the stables stone walls, tugging at a petticoat which stubbornly bounced back into its wrinkles. The lace was cold to my hand, and I was imagining another shadow.

Then I heard heavy breathing. I gasped and looked toward it. But I was too late.

I whimpered softly in pain as I was pushed backwards into the shirts by a pair of fat meaty hands. The grinning yellow face of Cabartte was peering down at me. I gritted my teeth and raised my right hand pushing on his broad shoulder with all my strength. He grunted slightly at this, and tried to grab my mouth.

"Be still! I just . . . Damn you!"

I had bitten his reaching fingers when they had come to close, and shoved my full weight on him. But this time he knew what I would do.

I felt my senses go reeling when his hard hand popped my face, sending my neck to the side. I panted slightly and tried again to shove him backwards, digging my nails into his fat flesh. With a low roar he moved me away from the flapping white clothes, slamming me hard into the stone of the wall.

I cried out as I felt my skin break on the hard contact. But his hands were already working on my vest, his fingers fumbling on the laces. I slammed my hands down over his, and kicked at the space between his legs. But he merely moved so he was not in danger of my feet, and slapped at me again.

"I've waited . . . I've waited long enough." He panted his breath foul and wrapping about me. I clawed at his face and hands and he shoved me back harder in the wall.

"No!" I yelled when he lost patience with the strings and moved both his hands to rip the fabric apart. _I was losing. Oh God. Help! Someone, anyone!_

As if in answer to my prayers, a small clatter came from one of the darker corners of the stables. We both looked up, Cabartte close to me still, his hands resting on my vest, ready to yank them apart.

Then I was thrown roughly back, discarded swiftly. I looked up at Cabartte, my eyes wide with fear, my heart pounding in my chest, clutching at my half-ripped bodice.

He smoothed back his greying hair and pulled his overcoat up, adjusting himself for proper society once more. Then with a sudden burst of speed he had me pinned by the neck to the wall.

I gasped and clawed at his hands, my eyes on fire with hate for this horrid man. I panted for breath, my windpipe sagging slightly under this death grip. "Not one word. You'll lose your place, and then where will you and that little family go?" The hands tightened and I gasped for air. "I'll have you yet my little maid."

Then he let go. I fell to the ground wheezing slightly, my hands rubbing my sore neck. He made one final glance at my huddled form and turned on his heel to go out of the stable yard. I watched as he swaggered his way though the small gate, calling to his friends on the street.

I remained where I was, but the air came easier now, and I sat up a bit. I looked around me, suddenly remembering the noise. I moved my head quickly toward the darkened corner, wincing at the sudden movement.

A small bucket had overturned, and the small pool of water was making its way down the cracks in the stones. I watched the blue streams for a moment, following their paths. My mind and body were still in shock. I knew from my aching neck and arms that I would be badly bruised in the morning. I raised a hand to my tight face. The skin was burning hot from his blows. _No doubt that will be black and blue as well. _

But the shadows held nothing. No movement, not even a faint shimmer of light. _Had I just imagined that someone was following me? But Cabartte had heard the noise also. _

My head felt like it was reeling, I tried to take deep breaths but only found myself choking on the chilled air. _Someone was watching me. But whatever for? _


	18. Sophie

**Chapter 17**

**Erik**

_How the hell could I have been so clumsy? _

I clinched and unclinched my gloved fists as I walked heavily down the rafters, my cape swishing lightly behind me. My heart was still pounding from the incident, and my adrenaline was still pulsing strongly through my veins.

_How could I have been stupid enough to stand there? And then that damned bucket . . . _

I growled low in my throat as I had to sidestep a rafter because of the stage crew. Slinking back further into the deep shadows I slowed my pace and moved on silent feet. The only evidence of my presence was the slight scattering of dust as my cape picked it up and swirled it into the stale air.

Once I was past the laughing and chattering men, I picked up my feet and made my way to the nearest wall that would lead me to a path down to my home. Reaching the nearly rotten wood, I raised my hand to the tiny silver switch. The sharp tip pressed harshly against my fingertip, and in one swift motion I flicked the mechanism back.

The gentle scraping noise of the wall shattered the silence but for a moment, and in those few seconds I had slipped into the welcoming darkness. I released the closing switch and waited for the door to reach the end of its track.

As I quickly made my way down the etched stone steps that led toward the cellars, my mind was racing with what I had just witnessed.

Part of me, the _human_ part I suppose, called for me to try and do something for her. But another side merely was content to watch her suffer under that man. _One less problem for me._

"_No!" She was screaming, she was fighting for her virtue, and what did you do?_

I halted for a moment, pressing myself against the wet, slick stones, the torch light flickering lightly down the passageway. _I truly was a monster. Christine had every right to call me one. _

I simply leaned on the wall for a moment, my breathing harsh. I gritted my teeth as I recalled that night once more.

_A twisted soul. Something not quite human, both in appearance and mind. And it was she who called me out. The one that I thought that understood me. _

I raised my head slightly, and slammed my fist into the unforgiving stones a groan escaping my lips. _She did understand. Only she could understand, she knew what I felt. Only she . . . _

I shoved myself away, shouldering the heavy cloak about me. _That chit outside would have to be dealt with. How dare I let myself feel sorry for her? She was the one who could send all my well-placed plans clashing down. _

The chill in the air became more pronounced as I came closer to the cellars, and my breath streamed out in a fine vapor in front of me. Once I reached the small landing that held my boat, I slowly stepped in, placing the long pole into the inky waters.

_I would have to deal with her. _But as I let my panicked mind be lulled by the soft swish of the waters I could hear her cries for help once more. And the ever present chant of "_monster_" rang out in my fevered brain.

**Elizabeth**

_God how it hurt to stand. _

I had finally managed to push myself to my feet. After a few minutes, my head had stopped pounding and the waves of nausea had died down. My feet still felt rather unsteady as I limped along the wall, my back stinging with its fresh cuts.

I gave a low cry of pain as I fell once more to my knees. The hard, uneven stones cut sharply into my skin and I whimpered at the sudden assault. Soon tears of rage began to slowly work their way down my face. I bit my lip and raised my head to the sky, willing the steady flow to stop.

Gulping harshly, I once more made the painful attempt to stand, using the wall as my main support I hobbled on toward the washing room.

When I finally found myself panting and near to tears once more leaning on the doorframe, I took notice of the sounds of laughter and low murmurs of talk. My head snapped up slightly and I moaned at the sudden shot of pain that ran up my neck. I quickly covered my mouth and tried to take calming breaths, my throat constricting tightly.

_I had to get to my room. I couldn't let anyone see me. _

I tried to walk swiftly past the bright door that led to the kitchens, but my gait was somewhat hindered. All I could manage was a slow hop, stopping every few seconds to catch my breath and to let my sore body rest for a moment.

Somehow I managed to awkwardly make my way to my door, but I nearly fell over once more at the sight of Meg patiently standing outside.

I grabbed onto her offered hand as I tottered on my unsteady feet and she pulled me inside my room. Once inside she placed me down on my little feather mattress and commenced to light my small scattering of candles, all the while looking at me with concern etching her face.

Once the small stick of lighting tinder was placed upon my dresser she turned to me, her grey eyes cloudy and enraged.

"He . . . Elizabeth . . . " She halted herself, licking her lips as her gaze traveled across the room, then moved slowly back to me.

"Elizabeth, why didn't you come in the kitchens?" She put her hands on her hips and sighed heavily at me.

I shook my head carefully and looked at the whitewashed wall that held my father's picture. I could still feel Meg's questioning gaze on me and carefully studied my papa's clothes.

As I looked at the light brown pants and ruffled shirt that I had mended so many times for him, I felt the tears that refused to fall so many nights ago.

Ashamed, and unable to stop the hot tracks of liquid from following down my cheeks, I buried my face in my hands. _Why now? Why in front of her? _

As my body shook ever so slightly from my ragged breaths I could feel Meg's reassuring arms come about my shoulders. She stroked my hair slightly and whispered softly into my ear. She let me cry all I wanted and didn't act mortified. She didn't let go. She let me know that someone was there.

When my tears finally came to a halt, she pulled herself back and only then did I notice her own red eyes. I swallowed thickly and shook my head at her once more. _I hadn't meant for her to cry as well. _

I bit my lip and looked over at the wall once more. _So much for not wearing your heart on your sleeve Lizzy. _

I listened silently as Meg took several breaths and tried to speak, then sighed in frustration.

"Elizabeth . . . why . . . uh . . . "

She was about to say something else but I cut her off, my voice sounding strange and thick even to my own ears.

"I didn't know he was there. He came . . . " I could feel tears welling up once more, but this time I pushed them back fiercely. "He tried to take me Meg. Then . . . my whole body feels like it's about to fall apart . . . "

Meg just sat still for a moment. I could feel her grey eyes taking in my stiff neck and my disheveled appearance. " Elizabeth . . . your back is bleeding quite badly. If you would let me tell your stepmother . . . "

"No." I cut her off sharply and lightly felt the back of my gown. Sure enough my hand met the cold, slippery blood that had soaked through. I snorted softly and looked back to Meg, trying to let her see that my stepmother could never see me like this. I would not have her trying to tend after me when she had so many other duties. All I needed was a good strong cloth to put on the ripped skin of my back.

Meg nodded her head and stood, her understanding making me feel a bit better. Then she turned back to me, extending her hand.

"I _will _help you into a clean night shift. I don't need you falling again. Now stand up."

I meekly let her pull me to my feet and help me out of my dress. Once I was only in my bloodied shift, she pulled the dressing screen in front of me and tossed over my new white nightdress.

Once I had pulled the soft, silky fabric over my shivering body, she helped me hobble over to my bed.

"Stay here. I'm going to go get some hot rags, and we're going to clean up that back of yours. Then you are going to stay in bed tomorrow."

I raised my voice slightly to protest but she gave me a warning look, not unlike that of her mother's, and gracefully exited the room.

Once she was gone, I leaned back gingerly on the bed and tried to relax. But every time I closed my eyes I could see Cabartte's leering face and hear that bucket clattering across the stable yard.

Meg indeed came back with some soothing hot water, but she also brought her mother with her.

So I had to endure both Girys cleaning my cut and bleeding back. Madame Giry would cluck every so often as I related what exactly had happened to me out in the stable yard. I did not tell her about the bucket and the strange feeling I had earlier about being watched. Something told me that I would have even more trouble with this strange apparition that wandered about the opera if Madame Giry were to find out.

I let them baby me all night, crooning to me as they ran the painful water over my shoulders and neck, massaging lightly at my many bruises, but I refused to be forced to stay cooped up in my room the next day.

_Cabartte would be even more enraged if he were to find out if someone knew, and I didn't want to give him the chance to fulfill his threat to kick my family and myself out on the streets of Paris._

So I was up bright and early the next morning. I was still very sore but most of my neck bruises could be hidden with a well-placed shawl.

That was the morning that Sophie started to act strangely.

Sophie was normally a talkative and rather active child, and the fact that she was now thirteen did nothing to dampen her carefree nature. She was often horribly underfoot when I worked but I endured her for her laughter and innocence. Aunt Maria and Aloysia were often nowhere to be seen these days so I could use all the help I could get. Sophie was always happy to oblige me.

So when I came into the kitchens that morning I was surprised to see her sitting at one of the tables looking rather glum and silent. Narrowing my eyes slightly at her somber attitude I walked over to her and playfully yanked at one of her ringlets.

I was a little more then shocked when she pulled herself sharply away and gave me a glare that was filled with as much confusion as it was annoyance toward me. She stomped off in a fine huff and scurried back to her own room, walking swiftly down the small passageway that led out of the kitchens.

It was then that I noticed the small letter crumpled in her tiny hand.

Early that evening I went up to Sophie's room to try and talk to her. As I made my way along the narrow hallway that led to her and my stepmother's rooms I tried to take in her strange attitude. It just wasn't like Sophie to act that way.

Once I was outside the small door I knocked softly, letting my knuckles rap nicely on the wood. I heard the soft scurrying of feet as I stood there, waiting for her to acknowledge my presence.

"Who is it?" Came her low response. I sighed and clicked my tongue slightly.

"It's Lizzy, Sophie. Can I talk to you?"

There was a good silence for a few moments and I shifted on my feet feeling a sense of dread wash over me. _First Aunt Maria now this . . . _

"No. I...well . . . Lizzy . . . I got . . . " She paused again and I could hear her opening a drawer and walking about.

"What is it dear?" I prodded gently. _Perhaps he's warned her about my meddling ways as well. _I thought, recalling Aloysia's strange response to my question about the letter Aunt Maria had received.

"Well . . . it has . . . that is to say . . . he . . . " Sophie had begun to lower her voice, almost as if she was afraid that someone other then myself would be listening to her.

"What is it Sophie?" I asked, wanting badly to be let in the room so I could comfort my younger stepsister.

"Never mind. Go away, Lizzy, I want to be left alone."

I pulled myself back at the harshness in her tone. _What has happened to you, Sophie? What has this strange person done to you?_

"I love you, Sophie." I called through the door as I made my way back to the kitchens. I thought I could hear a reply from her but I wasn't certain.

With my many injuries and bruises, I worked rather slowly. I had tried as hard as I could for the managers not to notice my winces of pain every time I moved, or my awkward hobbles.

So after I had finished trying to talk to Sophie I had slowly made my way back into the auditorium. The ballet rats were further back in the stage tonight as several of the managers had gathered to talk about the up coming opera. The singers had already been relieved of their duties for the night and all that were in the large space were two of the head men.

I prepared myself to try and quickly walk past them when I noted that the larger one, with his back to me, had a thick mane of gold gray hair. _Cabartte._

I nearly cried out. Pressing my lips firmly together to keep my whimper from being audible to them, I tried to work my way toward the thick curtains that hung on the sides of the stage.

But no sooner had I reached the first step that led up to the stage then he turned and caught sight of me. I froze, no matter what I did my body would not respond. My mind screamed for my feet to move as I watched him brush off the other manager and slowly stalk his way over to me.

"Hello, my girl." His deep voice trailed lightly over the words. That did it.

My mind and body snapped into instant movement. All I cared about was getting away, I ignored the pain that shot through me as I turned. I ignored his heavy footsteps, his low roar as I raced backstage. All that mattered was that I put as much distance as possible between him and myself.

Yet no matter how fast I seemed to run, he was always close behind me. I turned a corner quickly and found myself dashing along a long wooden hallway. I ran into one of the walls and felt my dress snagging on something.

I paused. The hem of my red dress was caught on a small silver device. I stared at it for a moment then remembered why I was running and down in a dark unfamiliar hallway. With only a moment's hesitation I reached out and tugged on my dress.

The silver shot into the wood and the wall moved. _Moving? It's not possible . . . there's no way._

Yet even as I stood there and thought through the logistics of large, thick wooden walls moving I raced inside the small opening.

Then it shut back almost immediately, and the low scraping noise of metal on a small track sounded so familiar to me. I stared at the now solid wall once more, trying to figure out where I had heard it before.

Unable to recall anything with my mind so intent on escaping Cabartte, I turned to examine my surroundings.

I was in another wooden hallway, but unlike the one that I was just standing in this one led to another passageway. I stared through the glow of the thick tapers that lit the walls to the stone and dripping noises that came from the hallway that lead off from the one that I was standing in.

_Where in God's name was I? _

I was still pondering this when I heard the low footfall from outside the false wall. I pressed myself against the rotting wood, careful not to hit the silver piece that gleamed near my hand.

The steps became louder and louder, and I could feel myself tensing at the sound. _Please God don't let him find me. _

I nearly gasped when I heard them stop right outside. _Go on. Go on! _Then the boots paced off and I could hear Cabartte's yelled curse as he carried his search for me else where.

I sighed happily and leaned back against the wall, clutching at my pounding heart. I nearly laughed, and I closed my eyes at the wonderful sensation of being truly safe.

Then I smelled the unmistakable odor of a gutted candle. I snapped my eyes open, terrified that I was aflame. I batted at my dress, but found nothing amiss, or singed. As I glanced frantically around, and spied the stone passageway, I nearly screamed.

There, standing ominously in the last of the taper light, was a huge, powerfully built man. The smoke shrouded his form and his dark attire blended in perfectly with the inky blackness of the wooden hallway.

I watched in silent horror as he lifted a gloved hand and put out the last candle.


	19. The Chance Meeting

**A/N: Woot! It's been spruced up now! Kudos to Celticheart and all my reviewers, you mean the world to me!**

**Chapter 18**

Light, the one thing that could have possibly saved me, faded. The candle, which only moments before had been flickering merrily, dimmed once the black leather fingertips came together over the small blaze. Then my surroundings were covered in a thick blackness that was as oppressive as it was frightening.

_I was alone. I was helpless. _

Suddenly Cabartte didn't seem as terrifying as he had a few moments before. My mind felt numb, and my knees began to buckle slightly as I stood there. It frustrated me that I was trapped here, unable to do anything.

If I was to yell, who would come? I didn't think that the man who was slowly inching his way forward, away from the dim glow that came from the torches in the stone corridor ahead, would appreciate my screams. So I remained where I was, trembling; trying to find some kind of courage.

I heard a small familiar swish as I tried to take a calming lung full of air. _It is that man! _Snapping my head up slightly, I listened to his soft breathing as he leisurely began to circle me. I gulped softly when I felt the unpleasant sensation of his eyes on me. It was the same feeling that I had the day before in the back of the opera house.

The heat of his body came closer to mine as he passed by my left shoulder. If I had the nerve, I could have reached out and run my fingertips along his cloak as it cut its way past me. I narrowed my eyes at his outline as he moved in front of me once more. He hadn't touched me. Even when he had to squeeze into the wall to get by me, he had not even brushed the hem of my dress.

I bit my lips as his form came to block the light in the hallway once more, his gaze still lingering on me. There was no desire in his stare, only curiosity, as if I posed a problem to his plans.

My eyes couldn't focus properly in the muted light, so my perusal of him was of limited benefit. My nerves felt like they were about to fall apart, my shaking legs were becoming worse as my mind kept flashing images of my untimely death. _Say something, Lizzy! _My fingers gripped the sides of my gown so hard I could feel the scrape of my nails through the fabric. _Go on!_

"Who are you?" It was all I could think to get out, and it hadn't exactly been in a forceful voice. I could feel my vocal cords trembling and straining my tone as my words danced lightly about the stone and wood.

Silence.

The thick smell of candle smoke and freshly burned incense filled my senses. My eyes had been rendered useless in the now nonexistent light, and so my others took full control; I could smell and hear clearly what I would have once ignored.

I shifted awkwardly on my heels, trying to shift my body toward the switch that was just beyond my grasp. I froze when I heard his harsh intake of breath, fearful anticipation rendering my mind useless.

"You know full well who I am Mademoiselle. There is no need for petty questions."

His voice was pure silk; the deep tone floating smoothly over the words. It was at once powerful and soft, terrifying and captivating. I could feel my legs trembling even more, and I reached out to the wall to steady myself.

"If that question is pointless to you, then pray, why are you doing this to my family?" I spat. My fear was causing my anger to rise dramatically.

"What am I doing? Do tell me my dear, what exactly have I done?" His voice never rose, but its iciness pounded my ears.

"You've used my aunt and cousin, for one. The manager De Perix is absolutely terrified of you. And now you've gotten the nerve to try and contact my stepsister, Sophie. Then," I went on, my courage rising as I spoke, I was able to stand on my own now; my feet firm beneath me. "Then, you follow me about the opera! What the bloody hell do you want? What have any of us done to you?"

I could hear him snarling slightly as I spoke, a low rumble forming in his throat. A soft sliding sound told me that he was clinching his gloved hands by his side. But I was beyond caring what he could do to me.

"If you're going to try and do to Sophie what you did to Christine Daae then you can stop this mindless scheme of yours now. There's no way in hell I'll let you do that to her, or anyone. . . "

I was cut off by a strong hand pushing me harshly against the wall. When my injured back made contact with the rough wood, I cried out in both shock and intense pain. But he merely muffled my mouth with a gloved fist and shoved at me with bruising force.

"You little wench. . . how dare you presume to know my mind. . . my pain . . . " He groaned out. His voice had lost all its loveliness. Now it was just an ugly and sharp sound in my ears as I felt his rage flow over me.

Then as suddenly as I had been grabbed, his hands dropped their hold, releasing my arms and mouth as if he had been scorched. But his fierce temper still crackled about me, draining my newly found spirit and fearlessness out of me. I leaned heavily on the wall where I stood, rubbing my shoulders to try and relieve the new waves of pain that washed with aching slowness over my back.

His breathing was still slightly arrested as he watched me. I felt his intense gaze sweep over me once more. I let a lone tear cut its way down my cheek, not daring to wipe it away. I tried in vain to focus my mind on its languid path down my face, but the newly cut flesh on my shoulder blades and spine would let me think of little else but the intense screaming of my ripped tissue.

"I. . . I. . . didn't . . . " I began, my voice small, but he cut me off once more.

"It would be better if you were silent, Mademoiselle. I fear if you decide to have another outburst you could find that your young life might have to be cut terribly short."

I snapped my mouth shut, stunned and enraged once more at his blatant threat on my person. But I respected his wish, for the time being.

A long and painful stretch of silence passed between us, only the faint roar of the torches and dripping water to slice the dead air that drifted about us. I soon began to focus all my attention on this strange man's breathing, listening closely to the emotion that reflected itself in his intake of air.

The soft rasping, clinched breaths of anger had subsided slightly, and now he took much deeper gulps of air. The raw sentiment and need that seemed to course through his very being suddenly went dim. It had been smothered almost as quickly as it had appeared. Now he was shrouded in the same impenetrable silence that had filled my very soul with apprehension. I couldn't help but fear what he was going to do next.

Slowly and tentatively I pushed myself off the wall, hissing as quietly as I could as the cold air hit the now exposed wounds. I gazed blindly in front of me, trying to find some sort of light in the dark obscurity that was all around the small enclosed space.

"Why then?" I asked softly, my voice barely audible even to my own ears. "Why my family? Did you plan for all of this to happen? Did you pay him to do this to me?"

I could fefel his gaze wash over me once more, taking in everything about me. And I found I didn't like the feeling that I was so open, so readable.

"Stop it!" I cried my voice choking.

"Stop what?" The voice called back, silk and satin running through the words once more.

"Just tell me what you're going to do! And why on earth do you need my stepsister?" I asked rubbing my aching shoulders, waiting for his response.

"You didn't seem to mind much when it was your aunt or cousin that I was using," he replied, and I could feel a slight annoyance building in the air once more.

"Must be terribly frustrating for you." I stated, slightly flustered by his observance. _But then again, it had just been Aunt Maria and Aloysia, not someone that I could truly say cared one whit for me. This was my stepsister; this was someone that I had watched grow up. Someone who loved me no matter what, and this man was a fool if he thought that I would simply sit back and watch as he toyed with her._

I heard his mutter of rage as I hesitantly took a step toward him. "And what would that be, my dear?"

I took another step, trying to use my position to work him backwards into the dimly lit cavern ahead. He wouldn't touch me earlier, perhaps it would hold for a few more moments.

"All the money that you pay her has come to naught it would seem. Just a small pension for the use of De Perix's fear, but you could have established that yourself. So why use her? Just to prove that you could? Aunt Maria isn't exactly the hardest person to obtain an alliance with. Just tell her what she wants to hear… but I suppose you've already figured that out."

I was playing a wild card, using the guesswork that had been forming in my mind for the past few days. I didn't know what he wanted, but perhaps I could get him to tell me himself.

I inched closer, my whole body on high alert in case he should try and hurt me again.

"You are a clever one, aren't you? Take care that you don't try to find out too much about things that are none of your concern." He snapped, his voice a low growl.

I stopped in my advance, irritation coursing through me at his cheek.

"None of my concern? This isn't just anyone Monsieur, this is my family."

I felt a slight stirring of air run past my right side and I had to hold back a small scream as his voice tickled my ear.

"No, Mademoiselle, it is not any of your concern. I have not abused you in anyway. Why do you ask so many questions?"

I could feel his breath, warm and soft on my neck. His tone had become soothing and I began to wonder why I had questioned him so. _He wasn't doing anything so bad to me. _

He smelled intoxicating; his body was so warm and solid next to mine. My knees began to buckle once more as he circled me, slowly, deliberately.

"I could make her the greatest opera singer in all of France you know. She is young and I can take her voice and make it into something more." He said moving further into the shadows.

My mind was racing, for some reason my heart was beating faster then normal. But no longer from fear.

_Can he really help Sophie and her new forming talent? _

Then his hand brushed my arm slightly, the smallest hint of a touch but it broke me from my revere.

I started slightly, jerking my hand away from the area where he was standing. Suddenly my whole being was pulled harshly back into reality. I could feel a deep rage welling at his audacity. _What had he done to me in those few seconds?_

"No. How could having her as your pupil help the opera? This is ludicrous. How will you teach her? I don't think that your current situation as residence Opera Ghost will allow you much freedom in the halls."

He pulled back from me, both mentally and physically, working his way closer to the dimly lit hallway ahead. "I have my ways. I don't think that you want Cabartte to find you the night of the Gala. From what I've seen of the man, I don't think he's one who likes being refused."

My pert reply died on my lips, pure terror filling my mind.

I heard him chuckle slightly at my sudden stunned stillness, but I was beyond caring.

_Is he serious? How could anyone be so heartless? _

I raised my gaze to where I thought he was standing. "Have you been telling him to treat me so?" My voice was weak and strained to my ears, but it carried to him.

His laughter died as suddenly as it had come. "No, I did not tell him to accost you. But…"

He paused, as if he was trying to sort though his thoughts to find the appropriate words to use with me.

"I can help her, if you would just let me. I swear that nothing will happen to her. I am… reluctant… for the past to repeat itself as well."

I bit my lip at the sheer pain in his voice. _What had happened to him to make him act this way? To be so aloof, so filled with pain and suffering?_

"I understand. But… ask her first… don't trick her into being taught by you. She's a smart girl, but she's young. Don't force her to do anything that she would not wish to do. Please . . . for my sake as well as her mother's, don't use her the way you are using my aunt."

A small silence followed my reply and I could hear him breathing softly in the space a few inches from where I stood. At first I could feel the air shimmering with his rage, then a calmness settled. I could feel him pacing, pausing ever so often to look at me. Then he stopped, and I waited on bated breath for his reply.

"Cabartte won't have the pleasure of seeing you on Gala Night I'm afraid," he stated. I could feel my heart stop for an instance.

"Wh…what did you say?" I asked a slight trembling echoing in my tone.

"De Perix will tell Cabartte that you will not be available that night." He replied, his voice turning gruff and low at having to repeat himself.

"I… I . . . I don't know what to say."

"A thank you is often customary in proper society…" He replied, a small smile causing his sound to gentle slightly.

I nodded in the darkness to him. "Thank you."

His regard washed over me once more, but this time it was even more calculating than the one that he had bestowed upon me earlier. I shifted on my feet slightly. I was no longer nervous, but I was at a loss for words.

Part of me warned not to trust this man, that this fragile alliance would cost me more then I would ever be willing to pay, but something in the back of my mind said to give this mysterious and threatening man a chance.

_But who is he?_

"Monsieur, I . . . " But his voice cut me off abruptly.

"I think that it is time for you to be getting back. Cabartte has more then likely long gone, and my stage needs a good cleaning before tomorrow's practice." His tone was both soft and commanding, and I didn't dare refuse.

"Yes . . . " It was all I could say, I knew next to nothing about this powerfully built man, and he didn't seem to be in the mood to divulge his motives or his past to me.

Without a word he reached behind me and flipped the small silver switch. After a soft groan the false panel slid back and the dark, familiar hallways of the backstage of the opera house were revealed.

"I will teach your sister tomorrow evening in her room. Do try to make sure that we will have no interruptions."

And with a small shove I was out in the passageway, the wall sliding back into place quietly behind me.


	20. The Lesson

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews once again. Here's Erik's POV for you Kate.**

**Chapter 19**

**Erik  
**

I raced through the slick stone walls, as a deep rage coursed through me, pounding harshly in my veins.

_Who the devil does she think she is? _How dare she calmly stand there and threaten me. _Me!_ The legendary Opera Ghost! The one man who holds the fate of her and that little family in the palm of my hand.

I gritted my teeth, trying to will my anger away and forget her harsh words. But I could still hear them ringing clearly, _"If you're going to try and do to Sophie what you did to Christine Daae then you can stop this mindless scheme of yours now. There's no way in hell I'll let you do that to her, or anyone." _It amazed me still that she had seen through my plan that someone who should have been no more than minor problem could be the very bane of my future existence.

I had told her that I would get Cabartte to back off his advances that night just to placate her, but I also flexed the extent of my power over her with that one little move. What to her might seem a kindly gesture, was in reality the card that I would use to bend her will to me. At the mere mention of that manager's name I watched the color drain from her face; her whole body tense. That would be my reward, or my punishment for her actions toward me. If she chose to help me, then I would keep him at bay for the time being. Once my new pupil was loyal to me, and I no longer needed her, then Cabartte could do with her as he wished.

I smirked slightly at the thought. _Yes Mademoiselle I do indeed have you right where I want you, no matter what you may believe to the contrary.  
_

Tomorrow would be my first day of lessons and I could feel a strange sort of excitement welling up in me at the thought. Perhaps this time I will reach the world above, this time I will become one of them, allowed to walk about. Be both respected and feared and admired by all who hear my work, and my skills. But first things first, and I only hoped that this Sophie will be as good as she was the other day in the main hall.

**Elizabeth **

I woke early the next morning, long before the sun had hit the small window outside my door. I blamed my insomnia on nerves and dread that he, the Phantom of the Opera, would go back on his word.

I paced about the small space for several hours, alternating between wringing my hands and changing my dresses, or trying to sit still and read. Neither helped. Soon I gave up the charade and slowly opened my door, lifting it slightly as I pushed so that it would not creak at the movement. If he was anywhere near here I did not want him knowing that I was up and about.

I walked swiftly down the thick hallways, dodging tables and other large props. The opera was to be performed in less then a month and the managers wanted everything in place, so if Cabartte or a patron wanted it performed early we would be ready. Hitting my hip on a jutted piece of backdrop that was carelessly draped on the wall, I remembered my injured back.

I suppose my fear and pumping adrenaline from the night before had blocked the pain during the night. This morning it suddenly came back with a vengeance at the sudden jarring that my side had taken. Hissing slightly, I pressed onward, hopeful that a cloth with hot water mixed with herbs on my aching back and a nice steaming cup of tea would lift my spirits.

After dodging quite a few more props, I finally arrived in front of the heavy oak doors that led into the comforting kitchens. I pressed my ear to the door for a moment to see if anyone was inside. When I didn't hear anything, I sniffed carefully, but no smells of baking or cooking filled my senses. And from the coldness of the door handle it seemed that the fire wasn't kindled either. Hesitantly shouldering the heavy door frame ajar, I poked my head in and glanced about the chilled room.

I nearly gasped when I caught sight of Sophie. She seemed to be unaware of my presence and I remained where I was, hardly daring to breathe. I watched as she lifted a small sealed letter up off the floor by the mirror.

_So, he's already communicated with her . . .  
_

Her small hands picked slightly at the red wax death head, and I saw her wince slightly as the jaw of the skull gave way and the gaping mouth grinned up at her. She let out a small breath as she pulled the yellowing paper out of the creamy envelope. Her eyes quickly scanned over the jet black scrawl, and I saw her pale slightly. As her face became more bewildered and worried, I felt my heart crying out for me to go to her.

"Sophie?" I whispered, and she looked as if she had been jolted by lightning as she turned to me, wide-eyed.

"Lizzy . . . you . . . you gave me a start. Whatever are you doing up so early?" she replied, her tone wavering as she attempted to collect herself.

"I couldn't sleep so I came in here to work. Though I might ask the same of you my dear . . . " I trailed off, looking pointedly at the letter in her hands.

Her eyes followed mine and she vainly attempted to hide it behind her back. I sighed slowly and put my hands on my hips, walking into the room to stand by her.

"It's all right Sophie, I met the man who sends these . . . notes . . . to you."

Her eyes became even larger and her whole frame became erect as she looked at me. Then her eyes narrowed, "Who is he then? He says he wants me to meet him tonight at eight o'clock in my room, and that no one is to be with me. What does he want?"

I was stunned for a moment. "You mean he didn't tell you what he wanted?" I could feel my anger rising at this perverse, rude and lying excuse for a man when Sophie went on.

"No, no, he told me about that. He said that I am to sing for him, and if he finds that I am to his liking he will teach me. I'm just not quite sure why he wants _me_." She looked up at me, the question reflecting in her deep brown eyes.

"I don't know. Perhaps you will find out tonight." I said, utterly at a loss at what to tell her.

"But you said that you met him? What is he like? Is he a gentleman? What does he look like? Is he nice? Oh! Is he handsome?"

She could have gone on and on if she hadn't needed to take a quick breath between questions, but I cut her short with my reply.

"I couldn't see him all that well . . . but . . . he does have a . . . powerful . . . he has one of the loveliest voices that I've ever heard. Other then that I'm not quite sure of whom or what he is."

"But does he have a name? Did he tell you that? Oh I hope he will be kind to me, I don't think that I could take an overbearing man shouting at me, and pointing out all sorts of horrid things that I need to fix on my voice."

I laughed and gave her a quick hug. "I'm sure he will love your voice, it's a sweet as an angel's, and as for a name? I don't know the answer to that one either, I'm afraid."

She squinted up at me, rolling her eyes in mock annoyance. "You're not of much use are you? Where did you meet him, in a dark forbidding alleyway or something?"

I snorted softly at her perception, and shook my head at her. "Never you mind, now will you help me with the laundry?" I asked, as I wanted to change the subject before Sophie could see my concern that he would not keep his word about Sophie, the Gala, or Cabartte.

Early that afternoon when everyone was rehearsing the second act of the opera, I was sent to meet Madame Giry. I had been in the kitchens with Renee, the two of us chopping up lavender and other herbs and flowers to hang on some of the empty hooks for seasoning and bath salts, when Madeline came in.

Renee and I had been laughing and joking quietly while Sophie and my stepmother were preparing that night's dinner. Suddenly, the doors groaned heavily on their hinges and a flustered Madeline came dashing through them. Her maid's gowns and cap had been traded in for the light and airy ballet rat attire only the week before. As we had expected her to be at practice with Madam Giry and the other girls, it was a shock to see her running into the kitchens as if the Devil himself were on her heels. Her light pink point shoes made a soft scuffing noise on the tiles and her white tutu swished and swirled behind her. Everyone halted what they were doing to gaze at her headlong flight.

"What is it dear?" my stepmother asked, laying her knife down and coming to where Renee and I stood.

Panting slightly Madeline shook her head vigorously as she tried to catch her breath, her eyes darting to me ever so often. "Lizzy . . . needs . . . to go . . . to Madame Giry . . . not sure . . . why . . . "

I narrowed my eyes in surprise at her. I hadn't talked to the ballet mistress since my run in with Cabartte and I had taken to avoiding her so as not to be caught in one of her curious gazes. Although she was not a busybody, she seemed to know a lot about what was going on in the Opera House. "Surely not . . . why? Did anyone tell you why?"

Madeline shook her head. "No, Madame Giry didn't give a reason. She just asked for you to come to her as soon as possible."

I tried to compose myself under Madeline's intense gaze. I had told her a few weeks prior of the Cabartte's unwanted regard and ever since she felt that something must be out to get me at every turn that I took. Lifting my chin I nodded and proceeded to slowly take off my stained kitchen apron, my hands moving sluggishly over the knot.

"Where is she?" I asked as I moved over to the freshly pressed and washed aprons, selecting one and tying it around my waist.

"I believe that she said that she'd meet you a few rooms down from the manager's offices. She was given an extra room to conduct her dealings with girls trying out for the corps a few months ago. So naturally she will want to talk to you in there, it will be a bit more private then in front of all those chattering girls." Madeline replied as she picked up my discarded apron and tossing it into the washroom for me.

"Did she say if you could stay with me?" I asked, hoping that I would not have to answer any unwanted questions, and if Madeline was in the room with me, then Madame Giry would be less likely to prod.

"Just you . . . " Madeline trailed off, and I suddenly became aware of all the eyes that had been following our every move.

My stepmother and sisters were watching us with open curiosity, their eyebrows raised, hands on hips. I turned to them and smiled, trying to lighten their mood.

"I'm sure it's nothing. Don't worry, I most likely didn't iron a new ballet tutu just right, you know how Madam Giry can be about that." I replied with more cheerfulness than was needed. My stepmother just nodded and turned back to her work. As I gazed at her shoulders and long brown braid that ran down her spine I knew that she would want some kind of explanation later tonight.

I nodded slowly to Madeline who smiled softly at my worried face and we walked toward the oak doors. Once Madeline and I were outside she grabbed my arm and pulled me into some deep shadows by the door that led to the main staircase.

"What is it Madeline? If Madame Giry said for us to hurry . . . " But I paused at Madeline's confused face, her brown and blue eyes flashing in the dim light.

"Do you know anything about a man who walks about the opera? A big tall man?"

I had to restrain myself from gasping or falling forward. _Good God, now what is he up to? _But I composed myself and shook my head at her, trying to make my face look less petrified and more bewildered.

Madeline nodded at my response and was about to walk on when it was my hand that was snaking out to grab her arm. "What is it dear? Why do you ask? Has something come up?"

"No, I just heard Aloysia talking about a strange man in front of some of the ballet girls. And then Madame Giry paled . . . I don't know . . . I was just wondering if you knew anything. No one tells us younger ones anything, but you've always been good at treating me like one of the others." Madeline smiled up at me, and I could feel the tightness in my heart loosening, as my worry dropped away. I grinned back at her and I entwined my arm with hers, pulling the two of us toward the offices.

"Don't worry love, if I knew anything I would tell you." But my mind was still trying to make sense of Madame Giry wanting to see me.

"Oh!" Madeline cried suddenly, and I looked at her my brow furrowed. "We're going to be late, and then what will Madame Giry say?" And with that she charged forward, dragging me behind her.

We dashed down row after row of hallways, but after the year of living in this maze, we knew our way about better and could race along shortcuts rather than take the long winding hallway that led from the kitchens to the manager's suite. I followed Madeline's long brown waves and her fluid tutu as I ran, running everything that I knew about Madam Giry in my mind.

_How did she know about that man? She's been around the Opera Populaire since before the accident, Meg's story that night so long ago proved that much. Did she know him personally? That man who wanted so desperately to have a pupil? The man who smelled of sweet incense and intoxicating candle smoke, who was so powerful a presence . . . _

"Lizzy!" Came Madeline's harsh whisper and I halted in my headlong flight. I was so preoccupied with my musings that I had not noticed Madeline had stopped at the manager's door. She was standing in front of it with her ear at the keyhole.

"What on earth are you doing? Madame Giry's room is a good twenty feet ahead?" I said, but leaned down to where she was just the same.

"I swear that I heard your name. I think that it was that horrid Cabartte, the one who . . . " She trailed off as she gazed worriedly up at me. "They're arguing Lizzy, about you."

"What?" I said in shock. _Not now, please God don't let it be about that dratted Gala night. _Shaking my head, trying to clear my thoughts of that strange man, I focused all my attention on the voices as I bent my head down to hers.

"Who the devil do you think you are! I want the girl, and you promised me her, I don't think that it will be in your benefit if you do not let me have her." Cabartte sounded livid and his footsteps were harsh accents across the thick carpeted room.

"Now Monsieur Cabartte, see to reason! I've received another note, and this time it was written in red ink, as red as blood, and it clearly states that she is not to be at the Gala. If she is . . . "

"Oh you and your dratted letters! What the bloody hell is wrong with you man! What can this note writer do to you?" Cabartte fumed, interrupting DePerix sharply.

"He can close the opera! He can have you and I thrown out! He could even kill us or send our souls down to his master! This is a ghost I tell you and he is one who works for Lucifer himself!" DePerix whispered, almost as if he was afraid that the man who sent the letter would appear from some corner.

Cabartte laughed, a harsh sound, like a knife skidding across a kitchen floor. I winced slightly at the familiar sound, pulling at my dress slightly. A small hand on mine stilled my nervous fidgeting and I smiled at Madeline's worried face turning my attention back to the door, and the men within it.

"Your insane man! This is absolute nonsense, why on earth would such a ghost be concerned about that maid? Though I must say that willowy figure might cause me to rise up from the grave . . . " Cabartte paused for a moment and I could feel my stomach churning with disgust.

"He is most serious Monsieur Cabartte! If you could only hear the stories that Madam Mason tells me! How her daughter has run into his horrid figure several times in the hallway! She says that his eyes burn bright yellow and he is as thin as a bean-pole, and the smell that he gives is something that all the wretches burning in hell must have to endure for eternity."

I tried to keep myself from smiling. Obviously Aunt Maria is up to her tricks again. If Aloysia has seen this "ghost" then she would be describing him quite differently..._quite_ differently indeed.

"And what proof do we have of this ghost DePerix? That Mason woman is as shrewd as she is fat, and that girl of hers . . . well wouldn't mind having her either, but she's a simpleton." Cabartte snapped back. His temper was rising with every excuse that DePerix was giving. _How stupid of you Lizzy, to think that Cabartte would simply roll over. What can be done? The Phantom shall have his lesson, and I shall have to endure Cabartte at the Gala.  
_

I was about to pull back from the door, as my thoughts became black and hopeless, but I heard another voice come from the room, a voice that was pure silk. _He_ was in there . . . but how?

"My dear Monsieur, perhaps it would be better for you to listen to DePerix. You may find that your life will be much easier if you do."

Madeline and I pressed even closer to the wood frame, shocked and thrilled that this "ghost" had decided to take my side. My laughter came out in short panting bursts, I felt as if a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Madeline grasped my hand, a small smile playing on her lips as well though her eyes told clearly of her confusion. There seemed to be hope for me after all.

For a few moments the room was deathly quiet, and all I could hear was Cabartte and DePerix's erratic intakes of air, and his soft chuckle.

"If you want proof of me all that you had to do was ask, my good sirs."

"Who the hell are you?" I heard Cabartte sputter out, his voice not quite as confident as it had been a few moments before. DePerix had yet to say anything, and I suspected that he had either fainted dead away or had wet himself.

"_I_ Monsieur? Why I am the ghost of this opera house." His voice was tinted with annoyance once more and I gulped slightly remembering his strong form hammering me into that stone wall.

"If you are a ghost then why do you hide behind the mirror?" Cabartte's voice seemed have weakened even more. _Not so the Opera Ghost's, though._ Shock continued to move through me in waves as I heard the man's voice drifting lazily behind the door where we stood.

"I hide behind nothing as you can see. Tell me though Monsieur, why do you defy my orders?"

Madeline and I pulled back from where we were. _It wasn't possible . . . there was no way he could be right there, we would have heard him move. _

"The girl was promised to me!" Cabartte yelled, but there was a slight hint of fear in his tone.

"Was she? Well, you shall have to wait . . . unless, of course, you would like this opera to fail. But then, you won't have much left to live on. Or your many mistresses I daresay." He paused for a moment then continued on, a slight hint of laughter on his tone. "Wouldn't your dear wife love to hear about your other women on the opening night? What a nice little surprise for her. I daresay that her father would not be pleased either. Isn't that how you've rose into the nobility? You married into it, correct? Yes, a nice message in her lovely bejeweled ear that night will suffice nicely . . . "

Cabartte was stuttering madly now, he seemed to want to say something to this man who had him under his finger but couldn't quite work out the words.

"I...Monsieur . . . Emily shall not need to be . . . the girl . . . "

The voice drifted slowly along the walls, pausing for each word at a different spot. Madeline and I were looking at each other with a mixture of fear and hope, our knuckles white from clutching at each others hands.

"Emily Cabartte shall hear of nothing if you agree not to have Elizabeth Brett at your side that evening...she will be needed elsewhere I'm afraid."

I started slightly when he said my name, the way he rolled his tongue over the "t's" and "z" made me pause sharply in my intake of air. It was the first time I had ever heard him say my name, I didn't know he ever knew it.

"So, Monsieur, may I assume we have a deal?" The silken voice was back at the end of the room, where I guessed that the mirror was located and I waited on bated breath for Cabartte's reply.

"I...I agree." Cabartte seemed to have lost all his will to run the honey over his tone. Now he sounded quite plain and vulgar indeed to my ears, and I couldn't help but smirk slightly.

"Good, now if you gentlemen shall excuse me, I have much to do" And with that the voice was gone, the room silent save for Cabartte and DePerix's quick breaths. I looked over at my stepsister. A small grin was forming on her face, and when she met my gaze it was all I could do to keep from laughing.

When the sounds of feet came closer to the door panel Madeline and I picked up our skirts and ran the few feet to Madame Giry's office.

However when we arrived back at the door I could feel Madeline's annoyance and confusion cackling about me. I turned to look at her before we knocked on the small plate that read _"Marie Giry: Ballet Mistress." _

"What is it Madeline?"

She gazed at me for a moment, for a second she opened her mouth and her eyebrows lowered, then she snapped her jaw shut and shook her head at me and raised her hand to rap on the door. The sudden noise startled me and I jumped slightly, which amused Madeline who bit her lip to try and hide her little giggle of mirth.

Madame Giry's thickly accented voice floated through to us. "Come in my dears."

I reached over and turned the knob rasing my eyebrows in mock fear at Madeline, who raised hers back at me. Smiling I walked in, Madeline following close on my heels. She wouldn't leave unless she was asked, and only then if she was threatened with the loss of her ballet position.

Madame Giry was seated at a small chestnut desk, not as fine as the manager's, but still an eloquently carved piece. When she spotted Madeline she moved her hawk like gaze over to where she stood by the door. Madeline might have quaked under her sharp stare but she didn't cave in.

"Madeline, why are you and your stepsister so late? I thought I asked that you send her to me immediately?" Madame Giry's voice was like pure ice, harsh and cold. I winced for Madeline's sake as much as mine. Apparently it had _not_ been a wise move to listen at the manager's door.

"We...well we...we heard the managers arguing about Lizzy." Madeline stuttered out, her face turning a deep shade of red. I felt an annoyance rise in me at Madame Giry putting my shy stepsister in such an awkward spot.

"_That_ was none of your concern." Madame Giry stated plainly, but her gaze came to rest on me then. I noted a small flash of worry but it was gone in the next instant and I began to doubt if I had seen it at all.

"But now Lizzy doesn't have to work the Gala night! There was another man who came in and spoke to Cabartte and DePerix, he sounded quite angry at Cabartte for something. And his voice, the other mans, kept drifting about the room. Yet we never even heard him move!"

Madame Giry blanched. I was beyond surprised as I watched as her eyes widen. Her hands gripped her cane so hard the knuckles went deathly white. I nearly came undone at the sight.

"Are you alright, Madame?" I asked hesitantly, reaching out a hand to help her. She came out of her reverie then, her eyes snapping back to their brilliant soul piercing blue, her grip on the cane relaxing.

"I'm fine. Madeline, do wait outside. I need to talk to your stepsister, _alone_." Her voice was cool and commanding, and Madeline obeyed without question. I watched her quickly exit the room the door shutting softly behind her. But no door would keep her from hearing what we said, her ear would be pressed tight against the frame.

I looked back to Madame Giry and was startled to see her regarding me closer then she had before. I lifted my chin as her eyes went from my still slightly bruised neck to my crinkled apron. For nearly fifteen minutes she said nothing, but just studied me. Then she asked a question much like the one that Madeline had earlier.

"Elizabeth, you haven't seen any strange men walking about? And I don't mean Cabartte."

I began to tell her that yes, I had indeed met a man. A man who lives behind the very walls of the opera, who has been manipulating my family, who is about to teach my youngest stepsister. A man who injured my back further, but also a man who had just saved my skin from the likes of Cabartte. It was that thought that halted my confessions, and I shut my mouth.

"No Madame Giry I have not."

Her gaze on me became sharper, as if she was trying to figure out if I had just lied to her or not. Then with a slight shake of her prim head she asked again.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes Madame." I replied, a strange confidence rising in me. It must have worked quite well for Madame Giry nodded and pulled out a key from her desk.

"I need you to help Meg and a few of the others clean up the main ballet changing room. This is the key to it, it's slightly to the left of the stage. The mirrors could use a good scrubbing and the floors need to be polished."

I nodded to her taking the key from her outstretched hand.

"Then," Madame Giry went on, reaching into her desk once more. "I need you and Meg to wash a good number of the ballet costumes. They should be in the closet in the room, here is the key."

I took that silver piece of metal as well, placing both in one of my apron pockets. Then I looked back at her to find her gaze a sharp one once more. This time I didn't quell under it.

"When do you need this done Madame?" I asked.

"By the third Tuesday of next month."

I nodded and curtsied to her before turning to walk out into the hallway. But her voice reached me before I could turn the handle.

"Be careful. I'm not sure what he's up to but stay on your guard. Don't let him have too much control over you or the others."

I whirled around, not caring that she might see though my charade of lies. "I beg your pardon?"

She just smiled at me. A sad, slow smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Be careful Elizabeth, and not just with Cabartte. Who knows ... perhaps you can help him..."

"Madame I..." But she cut me off abruptly.

"Go on girl! I don't need you standing around in here just to chat! I'll see you later I'm sure." She rose slightly in her chair and I took the hint and curtsied out.

When I came outside Madeline was indeed waiting for me.

"What did she mean by..."

"Madeline! Come in here if you please, I need you to help me sort out some costumes." Madame Giry's voice floated out to us. I smiled slightly at Madeline who rolled her eyes and huffed her way into the office, leaving me alone in the hall. I walked slowly back to the kitchens.

_What did she know about him? And what did she mean by "Perhaps you can help him?" How can I help someone who only would manipulate me? _

The rest of the day was uneventful and it was evening before I knew it. As I was taking down some of the chilled clothes from the line, I called into the warm kitchen for Sophie. Seeing as it is her first lesson, and he did save my neck this afternoon, she'd best not be late.

Sophie came bobbing out to me, her hands stained with blueberries from the pies that she had been making for that night's dessert. I gestured for her to come closer to me so that the stableboys and stage hands who were milling about in the yard would not overhear us. Once she was safely a few inches from me and a yard of white cloth hid us from view I turned to her.

"Are you ready? Did you eat supper earlier?"

Sophie's eyes became quite large and she nodded at my questions. "Yes Lizzy, I just hope..."

I looked over at her curiously for a moment, my hands stilling on one of the tunics on the line. "What is it?"

Sophie picked up the linen basket and took the newly folded shirt from me. "I just hope that I'm good enough...and I know that he said that no one is to be in there with me, but Lizzy?"

I looked over at her again, rasing my eyebrows to encourage her questioning.

"Do you think that you can be at the door? I'm sure he won't have to know...but just in case...will you?"

I opened my mouth to say no, that I was quite sure he would have an idea that I was pacing outside, but quickly re-worded my response. "Yes Sophie, if you want me there then I will be outside. Don't worry my darling, nothing will happen to you." I said hugging her and the two of us walked slowly inside.

"Thank you Lizzy, it really means a lot." Sophie chimed, sounding much happier, her face clearing.

"It's nearly time, I think that I talked stepmother into having everyone eat in the new dining rooms in celebration of the opera's first year of re-opening. And you're to be in the kitchens with me working on clothes and cleaning, and we're not to be disturbed for the floors shall be wet." I said to no one in particular, but Sophie responded all the same.

"So I can't be with him for more then an hour?"

"No, you can be with him for as long as you want. I'll do all the cleaning, you need to get in bed after this lesson. I won't have you not getting your proper amount of sleep on account of this man. Don't worry, I can take care of it."

Sophie nodded and we made our way toward her room. She looked at me for a moment before she went in and I gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead. "You'll be fine Sophie, just do your best."

Once the door was shut I placed my ear to the keyhole. I heard nothing but Sophie's bed groan with her weight. We still had another five minutes before he was to arrive, and I rushed back to the kitchens to herd the last of the stragglers and grab my book from the counter. I walked back to Sophie's room timidly, trying to make my feet scuff as little as possible on the tiles. When I arrived at her firmly shut door I pressed my ear back to the keyhole.

"Now how many songs do you know?"

It was that voice, but unlike it had been in the manager's office, it was calming, and soothing; mind-bending my brain called, remembering the night before. Shaking my head free from that memory, I removed my ear and sat down on the floor right across from her room, folding my legs neatly under my skirt, arranging my apron so that it fell over my dress and I could place my book there. Flipping back to the page where I had last left off I tried to keep my mind focused on the words.

Ever so often I would hear him, but mainly I heard Sophie's rich voice ringing about. It would halt on a note only to come back a few moments later, the sound even purer and lovelier. Soon I had placed my book on my lap, the covers closed and just leaned back and listened to her sing. _She's improving already. _

Then I heard nothing.

I jerked my head up harshly, my hands pushing me up from the floor. Tripping slightly over the hem of my dress I pressed myself back to the door. Still there was no sound. My mind was racing and I tried to turn the door knob only to find it locked tight. Fear rose in me and I hunted under my cap for a hairpin; anything that would help me undo the lock. Pin in hand I vainly tried to work the tiny screws and wheels in the door knob. Then I pounded on the door, my hands sharply banging on the wood. _Sophie! Good God what have I done! _

The door was flung open so suddenly that I nearly fell on Sophie. I grabbed the door frame, my cut back crying out at the extra movement.

"Lizzy? What's wrong?" Came Sophie's reply to my harried presence.

"Are you alright? Is he in here?" I looked past her into the room but nothing gave him away besides his peculiar sent.

"No he's gone. I thought that you told me to go to bed after the lesson? Do you need help?"

I shook my head at her question, still trying to calm my beating heart. "No, I was just worried that...never mind...how did it go?" I asked smiling and brushing my hairpin back into my cap, halting a few waves of my hair from falling out.

"Oh he was so kind! Did I sound much better to you?" Sophie said, her face braking out into a smile.

I grinned back and tweaked her nose. "You sounded much better. Is he still to teach you then?"

"Yes! Every night in fact! That is until I have...oh! Never mind, he told me not to tell you." Sophie said clasping her hands over her mouth.

"Not to tell me what?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.

"Don't worry about it. Oh! It will be such a surprise when you find out!" She grinned and ushered me gently toward the door. "Don't worry Lizzy! I'll see you in the morning. I'm dead tired I'm afraid."

Once I was outside she kissed me on the cheeks and shut her door quietly. I remained out in the hallway for a few moments, trying to decide to laugh or be annoyed. I shook my head at her. _At least she's happy, I just hope he's not planning something else with her. _

I went back over to my spot where I had been sitting to grab my book, only to find it gone. I paused, I was sure I had left it there. Glancing about the hallway, I didn't notice anyone and was about to rap on Sophie's door to ask her if I had dropped my book in there when I fell when I caught the distinct whiff of brandy and candle smoke.

I whirled around, my skirt and apron shushing about my legs.

There he was, half of his body in shadow the other in a faint light. He was wearing a deep black cloak that covered him and his intense eyes bored into mine. He lifted his right hand and waved my book at me, a small smirk playing on his lips, his eyes flashing blue and gold at me.

"I thought I said that we were not to be disturbed?"


	21. A Late Night Talk

**A/N: Sorry for the horrible delay in this chapter. Things have gone from bad to worse at mi casa. Thanks once again to CelticHeart for editing! **

**Chapter 20**

I froze where I stood, enraptured and horrified at his sudden, overwhelming presence. For a moment we just stared at one another, his eyes boring deep into mine. They were so intriguing and dangerously beautiful, a whirlwind of colors that shifted and mixed in the flickering light. At times they appeared to be deep sea blue, then they moved to an unfathomable green and finally to a light gold. The part of his face that was in the light was both harsh and smooth. I ran my eyes down his well-cut cheekbone to his full, sensual lips which snarled slightly, and he shifted uneasily as I ran my gaze up to his eyes once more.

"What happened to your end of the bargain, Mademoiselle? Or did it simply slip your mind that it was just to be your stepsister and I that were to attend the lesson?" He sounded annoyed again, and I tried my best not to appear too flustered after my fright over Sophie's well-being and his sudden appearance.

"She asked me to wait, Monsieur," I stated as calmly as I possibly could. I heard him snort softly at my wavering voice, and I lifted my eyes up to his once more.

He arched his eyebrow as he studied my face. "And so you paced outside this door the entire time, even when you knew I expressibly forbid it? Tell me my dear, will Sophie be able to help your family when Cabartte's rage comes over them? He is quite displeased with you, all it would take is one word from me and you would find yourself at his side that night."

I blanched slightly, my breath coming out in sputtering gasps. "I only wanted to help her Monsieur. Surely you can see that. She _asked _me to be there."

"And you think I am someone who can be trifled with?" he snapped back, a harsh sound coming into his tone. "Who else have you told about these lessons? Madame Giry, perhaps?"

"I would never! I met with her today even and told her nothing! I even lied to my own stepsister! I thank you for your help Monsieur, and by all means I will do anything in my power to repay you. Don't presume that I am so two-faced as to expect your help then turn around and betray you." I spat right back at him. _If he is the all-seeing "Opera Ghost" then how could he think this of me? Did he not hear what I said to Madame Giry? I could lose my position for my lies to her!_

He raised his chin slightly at me, a cold, calculating look coming into his eyes. "Tell me then, what did you think of her?"

I couldn't help myself. I gaped at him. "Think of who?" The sudden leap from threats to casual conversation caught me by surprise so I thought my lack of understanding was perfectly rational.

He however wasn't so compliant. "The girl! Or are you so daft as too not have caught a single strand of the music."

"Oh," I stammered, my feelings trampled a bit by his cheeky comment. "I thought that she sounded much improved. Her sound is much more warm and light, compared to the deepness that it once carried." I stated, my cheeks reddening under his now intense stare.

Then he almost gave a sigh of relief, but in the next moment the small smile of satisfaction that played lightly on his lips was replaced by his hard frown once more. "Good."

With that he began to sink deeper into the shadows of the hallway, where I had no doubt he had several means of escape.

"I beg your pardon, Monsieur, but might I have my book returned to me?"

He paused, his head turning from the darkness over to me. Raising his right hand, where my well-worn novel rested passively in his grasp, he studied the cover. His eyes widened for a moment, and he glanced over my way before opening the front cover. His hands ran slowly, almost lovingly over the blue spine and his fingers danced lightly on the thin pages. He flipped several leaves of paper rapidly over, before shutting the book once more. He started to hand it over to me, a small corner of his lip upturned.

"I was unaware that women read anything other than flighty romance novels, but _The Decameron _is quite the opposite, rather violent for a proper young woman."

Now it was my turn to feel my temper rise slightly. "Is it too immoral for my delicate femininity? Or is it just the fact that since I am part of the lesser sex, my slow-witted mind can't grasp anything over the typical cookbook?"

The corner of his lip curled even more, but this time it wasn't with annoyance. He seemed to be amused that a maid would own such a book, let alone be able to read it. "Not at all, my dear girl. But are you enjoying it? I found the seventy-eighth story to be of particular interest when I read it."

"I've only reached the sixtieth tale, I'm afraid." I replied, my ill mood lessening some when he didn't begin to lecture me about what should be the correct literary knowledge of a well-bred young woman, much less what shouldn't even be a part of the literary knowledge of anyone from the lesser class.

"I see." He replied, and lifted the cover of the novel once more. "And how do you find it?"

I let out a slightly outraged huff of air then, shaking my head at his sudden friendliness. _What do you have up your sleeve, Monsieur? _"I think it very well written. I love his style, and the tales of medieval Europe during the Black Death hold my interest rather well."

He outright smirked at me, his lip no longer holding its slight curve, but angling up in an unmistakable jeer. He held out his hand, the blue bound book resting lightly in his grasp. I looked up at his face slowly, a small idea popping into my head. A good half of his body was shrouded in shadows, and I wanted badly to know what this man looked like. When he let out an impatient breath of air, his weight shifting slightly from one foot to the other, I made up my mind. Crossing my arms to my chest, and jutting my hip out slightly I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Might I have my book?"

He moved his arm out to me further, but I didn't move forward to take it. For a moment the slight glimmer of humor in his eyes deepened, then it flared and burned out.

"If you want your book so badly then I suggest that you _take it_." His voice was low and tinted with danger, but I ignored it.

"How do I know that you won't harm me again if I come near you?" I asked, tapping my left foot softly on the tiles. His gaze moved down to the offending noise and he growled in the back of his throat.

"I won't touch you." He replied back, and I halted the movement of my foot. Uncrossing my arms, I tilted my head slightly to see if I could get a better view of him, and he stepped further into the darkness. His nervousness, or sheer determination in hiding his identity struck a chord in me. Nodding at him, I inched forward, taking several hesitant steps toward him. His distinctive aroma hit me full on and I let it wrap itself about my senses. Once I was within five feet of him, I stopped and reached out my hand. As he edged his own out toward mine, I caught sight of his tattered black glove. I curled my fingers toward my palm, stilling my journey to my book.

What once must have been a deep black leather, was now a fraying charcoal grey. I let my eyes wander up further on his arm, taking in the slight stain of candle wax on his cuff. _I could see that his entire outfit was falling apart. Apparently all of his money and cleverness were not being used for his personal appearance. _

I tentatively took hold of a small edge of his suit. With a quick, angry flick of his wrist my hand was back at my side. "What the devil do you think you are doing, Woman?" he asked, slinking away from me.

"Your outfit, it needs mending badly. If you don't take care of it now then there won't be a suit _left_." I replied. A small bit of his cloak had draped out into the light beside my foot and I put my heel lightly over it. "This as well. Look at how the hem is coming out!"

He snarled at me and reached out a hand to his trapped cloak, whipping it from under my feet and sending it whooshing behind him. But he had leaned forward a bit more then he had needed to.

I gasped softly and took a step back, then leaned forward once more. The right side of this man's face was an ivory mask. It covered all his right cheek and forehead except for his upper lip and chin. It glowed harsh and white in the dim candle light in the hallway compared to his dark chestnut hair. His eyes snapped up to where mine where, a look of both rage and pain drifting about in the golden orbs. But he didn't move backwards this time, instead he walked into my full view.

I let out a loud gust of air from my lungs, my breathing harsh, my chest rising and falling rapidly. Straightening my spine, I tried to stand at my full height in front of this man. He towered above me, a figure that was as powerful and large as he was dark and mysterious. His cloak flared about him for a moment covering his light yellow and black vest, his shoes snapping on the tiles. Gazing down at me, with eyes even more intense than I could have imagined them to be, he spoke.

"Well, my dear, your silence will now need to be increased tenfold, and you have no one to blame but yourself. I suggest that you take your book." He thrust the blue novel into my hands, his fingers not even brushing me. I looked down at the bound covers and then back up at him, letting my gaze take in everything about him, from his well-worn shoes to his patched cloak.

"I . . . I can help you with your clothes, Monsieur," I said softly, my voice hardly audible, even to me. He shrugged his cape up further onto his large shoulders, then looked down at his frayed vest and cravat. For a moment I thought that he would just turn on his heel and leave without answering me.

"How long will it take you? I have several other things that need to be washed as well." His melodious voice had become a monotone. Now it was my turn to smirk at him. _So you do need help after all . . . _

"It shouldn't take me more then a few days. I can have Madeline help me with the mending. That is if you don't mind . . . " I trailed off, my eyes trying to take in his reaction. He merely nodded to me and pouted his lip slightly in thought.

"I only foresee one problem, my dear." He replied narrowing his eyes at my curved lips. "Where would a person such as me leave their clothes? I can't just walk into the kitchen and hand you them over, you know. And there might be an issue with a man's suit and cloak simply lying on the counter one morning."

I pondered for a moment, pacing to the left and right as I tried to work out my options. I could feel his eyes following my every move.

"You could leave them in the wash room, if you can get down there, that is . . . " I was interrupted by his pert remark.

"_That, _Mademoiselle, will not be a problem."

I nodded to him, trying to push down my annoyance at his arrogance, as he confirmed my fear that he did indeed have access to everything in the opera. "Well that's settled then. I suppose that you can leave them sometime tomorrow and I should have them finished by Thursday. That cloak, however, will need new lining, and I'm afraid that will cost money." I finished, ducking my head slightly.

"A bag of francs will be in the upper pocket of one of my suits. That should hold you over for whatever adjustments that you need to make on them." He replied, his tone a mixture of outrage and amusement. I shrugged slightly to myself. _So what if you appear forward, Lizzy! This man has you and your whole family right where he wants you._

"Fine, that should work nicely." I replied, my gaze riveted on his mask once more.I was torn. My inquisitive side was being eaten alive with curiosity, while my sensible side felt immense pity for this man.

With a slight bow he moved back into the shadows, leaving me standing alone in a patch of light. When I heard the familiar swish of his cloak I remembered something.

"Monsieur!"

He must have halted for the light hushing noise stopped abruptly. "What did Sophie mean by you have a surprise?"

A long silence greeted my question and I shifted nervously on my feet. _Did he leave already? Was that noise just another panel opening?_

I was about to leave, thinking that he must have left, when his response came drifting back to me.

"We shall surprise all of Paris my dear. Hopefully she will be a good girl and keep her word to me. Try not to push and pry. This time the matter does not include you."

I huffed slightly at him, narrowing my eyes at where I assumed that he was standing. "I wouldn't dream of upsetting your plans. But as you said earlier, this little scheme depends on my silence. One which I am perfectly willing to give if you keep Cabartte away."

He chuckled slightly at me, a low rumbling sound that was not quite laughter. "Just like your aunt I must say. You only help if there's something in it for you."

I rolled my eyes. "Or you Monsieur, for surely you are not helping my stepsister out of the goodness of your heart."

"No. It appears Mademoiselle that we are both quite selfish creatures." He replied and I heard his cloak pick up its noise again.

I grinned slightly, that was partially true. But Sophie's protection and my family's needs would always come before my own.

"Monsieur, might I beg to know your name?" I asked to his retreating presence.

This time he didn't stop, but he did call back to me as he walked. "Erik. My name is Erik, Elizabeth."


	22. Aunt Maria's Plot

**A/N: A special hug to all the reviewers and several to CelticHeart for once again editing. **

**Chapter 21**

I moved slowly backwards along the long hallway, my mind running his name over and over. _Erik. _The infamous Opera Ghost had a name, he was a man of flesh and blood, someone who was manipulating and cold, but also someone who had a soul. _A man who needed my help as well as my family's. _

I ran my trembling fingers over my book, clasping the blue cover trying to still my nerves. My heart had been pounding furiously the entire time he had been in front of me. As he continued to move closer to me, I thought that my shaking body might collapse.

The small candle that my stepmother had left burning in the kitchens still gleamed slightly. I quickly pulled several fresh ones from the shelves and set about lighting them. The room slowly took on a soft, sweet light which comforted me immensely. I let out a small breath when I spotted the mop waiting silently for me.

Moving up sharply from my slightly bent position, I was surprised to find the room blurring and spinning slightly. Placing a hand on my brow to steady myself, I waited for the discomfort to pass. Once the chairs stopped wriggling and the mop stopped dancing, I tried to take a slow breath. _Why on earth do I feel so lightheaded? _I clung to the many chairs and tables throughout the room as I walked over to the mop and bucket of now chilled water.

Only when I was there did I release my grip and hesitantly stand on my own. Nothing began to whirl about and I could hold my balance as well as ever. Shaking my head at my foolishness, I hauled the bucket over to the dying fire.

I stirred the bright sparks back onto one of the larger logs. Once I was satisfied that the fire was burning once again, I placed the bucket on the small iron handle over the flames. Rubbing my sore back, I slowly paced back over to the counter top and sat down on one of the higher chairs. Where was I to find the time, let alone the energy to fix his wardrobe?

I studied the tall mirror; it was one of many which dominated every room in the living quarters of the opera. The glass held no figure tonight, and only a dim reflection of my pale face shone back at me. _How many conversations has he listened in on? How many times has he stood back there? Or behind any of the many mirrors for that matter?_

I was just about to go and pull the now bubbling water off the fire when a sharp pounding noise from outside reached my ears. I halted in my steps, my ears perked, listening as the harsh noise came ever closer.

I gave a small start when the large kitchen doors were flung open, slamming back on the wall; the hinges whining at the sudden movement. I gripped the edges of my apron, my eyes narrowing at the sight of my dear, sweet Aunt Maria. She came striding in, her shawl floating behind her like a sail.

I steeled myself as she stormed over toward me. I hadn't really spoken to her since that argument so long ago in this very room, and I was quite adamant that something like that would never happen again. But there was no stopping Aunt Maria when she was in one of her black moods. She pulled her bulk to a surprisingly quick halt when she was on the other side of the counter.

For a moment she just studied me, silently taking in my rather stained dress and deathly pale face. I saw her sneer slightly as she looked to my well-worn black boots.

"Well Eliza! It seems that you haven't been taking good care of yourself these last few months. Perhaps it is well that Cabartte won't have the pleasure of your," she paused as she ran her beady eyes over my slim form, "company Gala Night."

I could feel my pent-up anger at this woman's damnable rudeness rising, but I swallowed down most of my poison.

"Aunt Maria, might I ask to what do I owe the _great _pleasure of your company?"

She snorted, a mean laugh. "To what? Why to _whom _you mean my dear. This visit concerns your horrid treatment of our patron, Monsieur Cabartte."

I stood agape for a few moments, both outraged and horrified at what was afoot now. "What do you mean, Madame?" I asked, trying to sugar my words as much as possible.

She stomached my sudden politeness very well indeed. "Don't play coy Eliza! You know very well what you've been up to! And I am ashamed at your behavior! How dare you even think of trying to seduce that poor man!"

I felt my feet give slightly, but my rage outweighed my current fear. "_What?_" I spat, my voice becoming cool and a bit too calm.

Aunt Maria sneered all the more, distorting her flabby face into a crooked wad of flesh. "How dare you try and force him! I've heard all about what happened in the stables a few days ago! How you tried to pull up your skirts for him! And when he, that poor man, tried to tell you no, you bit him!"

My rage was wrapping about me like a well-fitted cloak now. "You have been quite misinformed, Madame," I ground out through my clenched teeth.

Aunt Maria nodded her head at me, her eyes narrowing to slits in her face. "He said that you'd say as much. You little hussy, unable even to admit your guilt to a relative! By tomorrow this atrocity of yours will have reached the ears of the other managers. And I can only hope that they will have the mercy to just throw you out into the snow! To think someone of my relation would have sunk so low!"

"Lies! Do try and look past your pasty nose! Why do you think I have these?" I asked. The dam holding my anger burst, and I tilted my head to show her the deep bruises there.

She merely raised her eyebrow at me. "No doubt those were caused by his efforts to hold you off. Dirty scum that you are! I hope that Peter does tell the others!"

I blanched slightly. _So it was she who had conveniently decided to let Cabartte's lies slip. _

"Why! _You ignorant, stupid fat cow! _If he was being assaulted, why did he not throw me down! Why would he need to grab my neck! Why would he feel the need to slam me to a wall! I assure you Madame. Your facts are quite wrong."

Now it was her turn to pale, her face becoming pastier then usual. "How dare you, you chit! After all I've done for you! And now when I try and help you how do you repay me! By treating my kindness with scorn! Yes, you are indeed your father's brat. He wouldn't allow me to help him either! I came here out of the kindness of my heart . . . "

I let out a small burst of laughter. "_You? Kindhearted? _You came here to toss my reputation in the mud! All you have ever wanted is to see me in pain! Well you have achieved your goal, Madame. You have done me every possible wrong. Your little scheme has worked thus far, but I highly doubt it will be able to run much farther."

She snarled at me then, and paced her massive weight about the floor as she replied. "I will talk to _him! _You forget my dear, but I have a very powerful ally on my side! If anyone could see you thrown out like the dirt you are, it will be he. You've gotten in his way too many times for him not to."

Now I smirked at her, and was rewarded with a small nervous tick in her neck at my confident gaze.

"Are you so sure Madame? What makes you think that this person will be so willing to see me gone? Or would you like to tell me what was in that letter now? I am sure that you will find I am well aware what you are doing for him. I wonder," I said as I turned slightly from her. She followed my gaze to the open door, the passageway to the managers' suite bathed in taper light.

"I wonder if DePerix would like to be informed of your doings? I am sure he would be very pleased indeed to find that his beloved Marie is involved with the very person who seeks his ruin . . . "

I watched as she blanched, her eyes holding pure terror, but my victory was fleeting. With a sharp turn of her heel she was hustling toward the doors, her form blocking many of the candles.

"_You, _my darling Eliza will leave this house if it is the last thing I do! Hopefully this new stain on your disgusting conduct will hasten the departure. But beware, my love," she said turning to me, standing half in the door and half out. Her eyes roamed over me once more, a pure glint of malice in them. "You have made two new enemies this night. And we will not tolerate you for much longer." And with a final huff she was gone.

I collapsed onto the high chair once more, my breathing forced and hard. The water which had been bubbling merrily during our heated argument now had doused the fire. Turning to the table I buried my face in my hands, resting my elbows on the cold stone. _What was I to do! _

Before I finally got up the strength to try and finally complete my tasks, I thought I heard a slight chuckle from the mirror. But when I turned to it the noise stopped.

I had slept poorly that night, most of it spent tossing and turning in my small bed; my dreams plagued both by Cabartte and the mysterious Erik. When the faint dawn sunlight crept over the small window outside my door, I felt worn to a raveling.

When I tried to sit up on my bed to begin to get ready things went topsy turvy once more. This time the spell was much longer and my breath seemed to rasp in my chest. My brow felt warm under my touch and a deep chill seemed to be setting in my very bones. But the strange experience was as gone as soon as it had come.

Later that day, after I had finished polishing the staircase with Sophie, I began to work on the laundry. As I began to detangle gowns from vests and trousers, a heavy cloak shushed to the floor. I watched as the edges flailed out like wings as the air caught it before it landed on the stones. I bent down and picked it up fingering the deep velvet that ran silkily through my grasp. It was still warm and a faint whiff of candle wax floated up to me.

I rummaged through a few more dresses, a vest, several cravats, two jet black trousers, and pile after pile of elegantly ruffled dress shirts came out. I couldn't help but smile when in the upper most pocket of a blood red vest was indeed a small bag of money. I was about to toss the trousers in with some other clothes into the wash tub when a yellowed letter fell out.

My gaze still riveted on the gleaming red skull that seemed to wink up at me, I placed the clothes into the steaming tub. I bent down to the floor and picked it up, my grip gentle on it. I flipped it over to read my name neatly written in a looping, spidery script.

Once I had snapped open the jaws of the little skull, a sound which made me cringe slightly, I pulled out the black rimmed letter. On it was more of the same writing and I quickly skimmed over it.

_Dear Elizabeth,_

_I hope this note finds you quite well, seeing as the argument between you and that meddling aunt had me worried for your welfare after she had left. Brava! You stood up to her well._

_I hope that now you have found my clothes among some of the other piles that were so conveniently stacked in the corner this morning. The money is in the pockets of one of my vests. I believe I will leave it to you to find it. _

_I will require the kitchens to be empty again this evening for my next lesson with your stepsister. Do try and find it within yourself to keep your delightful nose out of our way. If you can't quite quell your amusing habit of disobeying me, you may safely assume that you will find yourself back with Cabartte as early as I can possibly arrange it. _

_As for the returning of my personals, leave them in that hallway where you happened upon me a few days ago. Flip the switch and leave the clothes inside the anteroom. _

_If I may also impose upon you to leave a small collection of food goods with the clothes I would be much obliged. _

_Yours,_

_O.G. _

I quickly folded the letter and placed it and the envelope in my apron pocket, my gaze running over the stable yards a few feet ahead. _So you require more do you! Well we'll just see about that. And as for the kitchens being empty! I will just do my best, and you sir had better be satisfied with it!_

I stirred the clothes, took care to soap his especially well, and hauled the sopping items out to the yard to catch some of the pale winter sun.

Surprisingly it wasn't that hard to convince my stepmother to continue holding meals in the new dining room. It seemed that she and the others like the openness as well as the bounty of tables. All I had to do was help her move the steaming pots and pans of food into the room.

But that proved to be a disaster.

The first time I went into the main room where all the tables where lined up in a nice row, filled with cast and crew alike, all eyes seemed to be on me. I could hear the whispers as I moved past the diners, and I could sense the jeers that hovered unspoken about me. And yet my feet felt leaden. No matter what I did they simply wouldn't move any faster then a crawl.

Just as I feared I would faint dead away, Meg came to stand by me. With a small, yet comforting smile, she helped me walk the rest of the way. Then once I had placed the bowl of meat down, she threw her arms about me.

"Don't worry Lizzy, I know that he is lying. And I will do all I can to help you."

I trembled slightly, tears misting my eyes, when another voice came from down the table.

"Aye! That slimy bastard is just trying to ruin her!"

Then to my shock more heads began to nod in agreement, then the voices suddenly became whispers of approval of the stage hand's comment. Meg smiled at me and tucked her arm with mine helping me back to the room where my stepmother was.

"I wish you would eat with us Lizzy. Not so many of us are against you as you think. A few of the other girls have been used by him as well." Meg said nodding politely across the room to a few of her ballet friends, Madeline among them. I gave my younger stepsister an encouraging smile and to my surprise she rose and took my other arm.

"Meg told me that you had work to do tonight. Is it all right with you if I come with you? We can eat and you will have someone to talk to as we work."

I nodded my assent to her and turned to Meg to give her a quick hug goodbye. "Thank you," I said. She grinned at me.

"Don't worry about it dearest. Just take care of yourself. We need to have a nice long chat at one of the cafes again. That was so much fun last year, I hope you will consent to go again."

"Of course, Meg! Just name the date." I replied and she hugged me one last time before returning to the dining room.

I turned to Madeline.

She smiled softly up at me, her dark eyes flashing lightly. _We've been through so much together. And she's become so much more bold. _I thought, remembering that horrible conversation at the manager's keyhole yesterday.

_Good Lord_! That had only been the day before! It seemed like an age had passed since then. I shook my head of my dark thoughts and took up her arm.

"So you want to help me tonight, do you? Well, how good are you at mending clothes?"

After we had eaten our small fare of brothy meat and a small bowl of thick tomato soup, I pulled out several of the shirts and trousers. Her eyes widened at their pathetic state and I plopped a few down in her waiting lap.

"Do you know how to hem the bottom?" I asked pointing to the gaping hole between the two layers of pant leg. She nodded and pulled a thicker needle from the basket of sewing supplies. I watched her work for a few moments, telling her where to tighten her stitches. She caught on quickly. Once I didn't have to watch her every move, I turned my attention to the frayed ruffles on the shirts.

A few hours later, when Madeline and I were putting the finishing touches on one of the vests; Sophie came out of the hallway.

Her hair was swept back into a low bun, a few strands spilling onto her shoulders. She grinned rather sheepishly at the two of us and rubbed her throat slightly. I smiled at her and set about fixing a glass of water and a hot mug of tea to ease her strained vocal cords.

With her healing drinks in her hands she came and sat by Madeline and me, simply content to rest her head on my shoulder and watch the two of us work. For a few moments nothing was said then Sophie's sweet voice gently pierced the silence.

"He says thank you Lizzy."

I leaned my head back so I could see her face, trying to ignore Madeline's look of confusion. _The less she knows about this mess the better. I won't have him hunting her down for her silence._

"For?" I asked, handing Madeline a glove to try contain her questions.

"For leaving . . . " Sophie trailed off, watching Madeline hunch over the greying glove. I turned my attention to her work as well. It was a new art that I had just taught her a few hours before, and it was rather slow going for anyone.

Madeline pulled off the fraying leather slowly, so as not to disturb the other fabric of the glove. Once she had done that she picked up a newly cut and measured strip of fresh inky black leather and sewed it onto the front and back of the skeletal glove. She held it up to me and I examined her stitching, correcting it where I needed to, then pulled on the fingers; making sure everything was sound.

"Good work Madeline." I said, placing the glove with the others on the table. Now all that was left to do was the cloak. But that would take a trip into town, for I knew next to nothing on how to properly line such a garment.

With a small sigh I leaned tenderly back on my chair. "Well, girls, it looks like we are done, at least for today. And it must be nearly past eleven o' clock, so I suggest that the two of you get into bed." I stated, arching my eyebrows as matronly as I could.

With a small smile Madeline nodded and stretched, her thin arms reaching for the high ceiling. "Good night, Lizzy." She said before moving off toward her own bed.

Sophie remained with her head on my shoulder for a moment. "I like having these lessons Lizzy."

I sighed again. "Well, I hope he enjoys giving them. I'm sure that your improving nicely under him."

She smiled against my shoulder and slowly pushed herself off me. "I do too, Lizzy. See you in the morning." And with that she followed Madeline.

I studied the walls and mirror before I finally rose from my own position. I blew out several of the candles that were stationed about the room, leaving the last one to help me find a small piece of cinnamon cake and my room.


	23. A Newly Mended Cloak

**A/N: A big thanks once again to all the reviewers. You guys really make my day:Sends large shipments of gingerbread cookies to them all:**

**CelticHeart as always you've out done yourself. Thanks so much for editing!**

Chapter 22

**Erik**

I ran my fingers slowly over the small letter that was resting quietly in my grip. The paper was much finer then the scraps of parchment that I had been reduced to in the last few months, and I enjoyed the silky feel of it. Slowly, almost tenderly, I flipped it over, revealing the untidy scrawl of Madame Maria Mason.

_Dear Sir,_

_I think it only fair to warn you that the girl Elizabeth Brett has stuck her nose once more into your business. She has even threatened to go to DePerix. I have no doubt of her disloyalty to me and my dear daughter Aloysia. She has always made it perfectly clear that she hates us. It would be in the best interest of all at the opera that you send her directly away, after her unfair treatment of Cabartte. She is a meanspirited, witless girl and I only hope that you will deal with her accordingly. _

_Yours,_

_Madame Mason_

_P.S. _

_When might I expect Aloysia to be asked to join the head of the ballet corps? Do make sure that my name is mentioned in the program Gala Night. Oh, and money is running low again._

With a small sigh, I closed the letter once more, pressing my hands to my lips. A small smirk formed beneath my fingertips, one which I did nothing to quell. _Mean spirited and witless? _I chuckled meanly at the thought, my laughter cold and fierce. The sound rattled about the small cavern for a few moments, and I leaned back in my chair.

_Elizabeth Brett was everything but witless. _I reopened the letter once more, my gaze lingering on the first few lines. _She has even threatened to go to DePerix. _

I tossed the envelope down on my small desk, a tiny film of dust rising up in protest. For a moment I simply followed the different particles as they descended once more. _She will become a problem in time. _My mind whispered to me, and I clinched my fists slightly remembering her similar threats to unravel all my good work. _But she won't be disloyal if you keep Cabartte away, and she has promised to help you with your plan thus far. _I slowly unraveled my fingers from my palms, my breathing low and even.

I moved over to my small opera model, my eyes scanning over the small figurines. Most of the stage was badly charred from the fires that had raged on it, a miniature of the one that had roared above the night of _my _opera. Pulling up a wooden chair, I sat and studied what remained.

My eyes automatically roamed over to where Christine was. I reached out and ran a loving finger slowly down her slightly melted form. The fabric was unraveling swiftly as the years swept by, as was much of my home. _I could only hope that Elizabeth would hurry with the supplies. And if she didn't perhaps a convenient run in with Cabartte would assure me of her loyalty._

I rose from the creaking chair, Christine's doll still clutched in my hands. Closing my eyes I let the memories of that night, now so long ago, wash over me once more. The cold and merciless tides of the past pulled me under swiftly and I willingly drowned in their depths.

**Elizabeth**

_Something is wrong with me. _I thought as I once more found myself clutching at the wall of the hallway, trying to keep my balance as my world spun. This was the second time that it had happened, and both times were on the same short walk to the kitchens.

I leaned my head softly against the cool wall, my breathing irregular and harsh. Then for a moment it didn't come at all and I was gasping softly. Panic seized the edges of my mind, and I felt a cold sweat break out on my skin.

Then, as before, it left as quickly as it had come.

I pushed myself off the wall tenderly, my feet still wobbling slightly. I ran my hands over my face, trying to shake off my fear.

"Lizzy!"

I whirled on my heel, a bit faster then I should have and felt yet another wave of nausea run over me. Trying to clutch at my lower belly as inconspicuously as I could, I waited for Renee and her beaux Peter. I managed to push the feelings down and stood straighter as Renee gave me a small hug by way of greeting.

"Hello, Lizzy dear. I hope you slept well?" Renee asked as she pulled away and laced her arm with Peter's lanky one.

I smiled softly by way of response, running my eyes over Peter. He seemed to grow nervous under my hard gaze, but I couldn't push aunt Maria's words out of my mind. _"No doubt those were caused by his efforts to hold you off. Dirty scum that you are! I hope that Peter does tell the others!" _

I turned away a deep resentment forming in me as I did so. I could feel tears welling up behind my eyes. _How dare he! You don't deserve Renee, you backstabbing . . . _

"Elizabeth?"

I reluctantly turned my eyes back to him, unable to hide my distaste. "Yes, Peter?"

"I ... it wasn't me. I swear to you I didn't believe that aunt of yours for an instant. But she made sure that a few of the stage hands and ballet rats could hear . . . "

He was studying me closely as I turned away once more, a small sigh escaping from my lips.

_Perhaps it wasn't him after all . . . _

Mustering all the strength that I had, I gave him a small grin, and felt it spread into a truer one as he smiled back.

"I'm sorry, Peter. I don't know what came over me. Of course I don't think that it was you who told the others. But still, I doubt that I'll be seen the same way again by anyone else who works here." I muttered weakly.

To my surprise Peter came over to me and clutched me in a powerful hug. I let out my shocked breath and found myself laughing at his slightly reddened face when he pulled back.

"No one will think less of you, Elizabeth, of that I can most undoubtedly assure you. You're far too sweet and kind to others! Not everyone is against you."

His voice was so low and comforting that I found myself warming to him once more. I nodded softly and quickly returned his hug, which caused him to turn the same delightful color as his burnt gold hair.

"Thank you, Peter, and you as well, Renee.I really am glad to know that you two still believe me."

We stood there in the chilled hallway for a good half and hour, just laughing and talking with one another. I was glad of their company and happily missed my breakfast that morning. Only when the clock banged out the ten loud gongs did I finally decide to leave them and get about my other chores.

I walked languidly into the kitchens where Sophie and my stepmother were busy preparing lunch for the many people who worked in the opera house. My stepmother turned and gave me a quick smile that seemed to reflect all her tremulous emotions. _Whatever have you and Sophie been up to so late every night? How are Renee and Peter doing? Is he just trying to take advantage of her? Is Madeline coping well under Madame Giry? And Lizzy, what is all this gossip that I'm hearing about you and Cabartte? I wish you would talk to me like you used to . . . _

I grinned at her, trying to ignore all her questions and worries. _God knows I have enough at the moment. I'll tell it all to you someday, stepmama, that I can safely promise you._

"Morning, Lizzy!"

I reached out and ruffled Sophie's bouncing curls lightly. "Good morning, Sophie."

She pulled herself away from my grasp in mock annoyance. "Meg came by a few moments ago, Lizzy. She said something about a trip into town?"

I paused where I stood, my hand already halfway to the apron that was lying primly on the rung. "Did she say when she wanted to go?" I asked, thinking of all the things that I would need to have finished by tonight.

"I believe that she said she wanted to go by ten-thirty." My stepmother chimed in, her back to me as she chopped up the different meats and vegetables in front of her.

"Ten-thirty . . . " I mused. I moved my gaze over to where the long black cloak lay hidden in between a pair of dark bed linens. _If I could somehow manage to get that done today then I could return all his clothes this evening. I will scrub down the stage when everyone else is in bed._

"I think that will work quite nicely for me. Do you need anything, stepmother?" I asked as I ran my hands over my shabby work dress. _Well this won't do at all . . . _

"If you wouldn't mind picking me up several batches of gingerbread. A baker's dozen each if he will let you." She replied turning to Sophie and winking at me. "I think that it will make a nice desert, don't you think? And the extras can go to our small cookie jar."

Sophie gave a small whoop and dashed over to hug my stepmother. "Thank you, mama!"

I smiled at the two of them and grabbed a small slice of sponge cake before making my way back to my room for a quick change of clothes.

After changing to my lacy black and yellow gown, which I could wear comfortably without the restrictions of my corset, I went to meet Meg in the main hallway. With the trouble that I'd been having lately with my breathing, I figured that it would not do for me to fall face first down on the busy streets of Paris just to be fashionable.

Meg, on the other hand, looked absolutely exquisite. Her periwinkle blue gown complemented her figure without being too showy and overdone. She heard me coming down the stairs and turned and greeted me with a small wave.

"Meg! You look lovely!" I cried and gave her a quick hug.

"I could say the same for you, Lizzy. That gown really sets off your eyes and looks nice against your skin." Meg replied as she in-laced her arm with mine as we made our way toward the elegant doors and Paris.

I blushed slightly at her praise and she laughed at my flushed face. "Oh don't be so coy, Lizzy! And what on earth is that?" She asked, pointing at the large folded cloak wrapped in thin white paper.

"Oh! That's just something of the managers that they asked me to reline." I lied. It had been Meg after all who first told me about the Phantom, and I wouldn't put it past her to have seen enough of him that night when he had taken Christine. But luckily for me she didn't press any further, nodding at my explanation.

"It looks very fine," she replied as she reached out to run her fingers over the gold silk lining.

"Yes, well with their wealth I'm sure only the best would do," I responded quickly, tucking the lining inside the paper.

We walked down several boardwalks and peered into many different shops, our eyes catching many shining trinkets and lacy dresses. Once we had passed the large market, the shops that were more oriented to trades began to pop up in between the usual cafes.

I began to study the signs as Meg and I chatted rather aimlessly about the goings on at the opera house and the usual local gossip. I reached out to pull her to a halt when we reached a sign that read, _Monsieur Antoine Dugall Master of Fine Fabrics._

She and I looked at one another quickly before I took the first step toward the dimly lit little building. A small bell rang somewhere far off in the backrooms when she and I stepped in. A slight smell of leather and dyes filled the air and several candles sparkled daintily in their holders as we made our way toward the counter to the large mahogany desk that sat rather powerfully at the center of the room. A small bell was resting on the upper right-hand corner and I tapped on it lightly a few times until I heard movement from one of the back rooms.

"Yes, yes! I hear you, Monsieurs, I am coming!" A thin, reedy voice called out.

Quickly following the ringing peals of sound came a small, round man. Most of his grey hair was gone and his glasses sat rather precariously on the very tip of his nose, but his face was a remarkably kind one. As he puffed himself up to where Meg and I were standing, we curtsied swiftly. His eyes widening at his mistake, he bowed politely back.

"My dear Mademoiselles! Do forgive my error. Now what can I help you with?" He smiled, his whole face lighting up as he looked us over kindly.

"No offense at all, Monsieur Dugall. Thank you for seeing to us so promptly." I replied as I began to pull the cloak from the paper.

His small eyes brightened as they followed my movements. "My, my, that is a pretty thing!" He said as he ran a hand along the thick outer lining.

"As you can see Monsieur, there are several places where it needs mending, and the inner lining is falling apart." I said as he pushed his glasses up on his face and flipped the cloak over with an expert hand.

"Yes, yes, I can see where the fabric is falling into disrepair." He pulled slightly on a bit of the golden silk and a strand of it came off in his hands. "Well, Mademoiselle . . . "

"Brett, sir." I replied and met his grey gaze.

"Well Mademoiselle Brett, it looks like you have brought it just in time. Do you see here? Where the silk has become rather grey from age? If you had waited much longer then it would have completely fallen to bits." He smiled.

"Yes Monsieur Dugall. I do see that now. Do you think that you can fix it? Can you restore it to what it must have once looked like?"

His smile became even broader. "That will be no issue at all my good Mademoiselle Brett, for it was I who crafted it."

Meg and I gaped at him for a moment.

He waved his hand at us and chuckled at our faces, his laughter light and bouncy in the room. "Yes, my late father and I worked on this oh . . . a good seventeen years back. Of course my mind isn't as sharp as it once was so it might have been later or earlier than that . . . " He said, rubbing his balding crown for good measure.

"I see. Well then, can you fix it?" I asked, my mind still in a whirl. _Did Erik come down here himself? Do I dare ask?_

"Yes, yes, my pretty young Mademoiselle Brett. I can have it done in an hour. Luckily I still have the very fabric that it was made out of in one of the back rooms. You can pay me when you come back for it." He replied his eyes catching me pulling out the small purse that Erik had given me.

"Sir, you are too kind," I said and Meg and I both thanked him several times as we curtsied our goodbyes.

"What an impressive story! I wonder which one of the managers owns it? To think that we happened upon the very shop where it was crafted. I daresay it is a lovely cloak, so fine and soft." Meg said as we walked back down Market Street looking for the bakers shop.

"Yes that was odd. He seemed like a very kind gentlemen, however." I said as we rapped on the old blue door that was Madame Carte's bakery.

Meg and I both smiled as her familiar head popped out of the upper part of the double door. "Hullo Madame Carte!" I called out.

Her bright blue eyes lit up at the sight of Meg and me. "Well hullo you two! It's been awhile I must say. Come in for some fresh bread! It's hot out of the oven. Come on, come on!" She called, unlocking the door and waving us inside.

Madame Carte was one of the first English women that I had met when my step family and I had first moved to France. Like us she was also estranged from her family on the island and her comforting British tongue had done wonders for my homesick heart earlier that year.

"Well, my pretties! What can I get for you today?" she asked, handing Meg and me a loaf of sweet bread apiece.

"Twelve boxes of your baker's dozen gingerbread please." I said as I munched on the free bread happily. _Today hasn't turned out that bad after all. Let's just hope it stays that way._

"Twelve boxes of the bakers ginger it is. Maurice!" she called, grinning at us.

Her assistant, a strapping, large man of eight and twenty, stomped in. At my side I felt Meg blush and duck her head slightly. I grinned over at her. She had a fancy for Maurice since the first day Sophie and I had found this shop last year.

"Madame?" He asked in his drawling French, his eyes wandering over to Meg and me.

"Twelve boxes of the bakers ginger, if you please sir," Madame Carte asked pertly, putting on a voice of mock annoyance. Maurice grinned at her and winked lightly at us before he dashed off to the back room to fetch our order.

"So tell me Miss Brett and Miss Giry, what brings you fine ladies into town?" She asked laying her arms on the glass counter in front of her.

"I had to get a cloak fixed for one of the managers," I said.

"Ah! Tell me how are things going over at the opera? Is the date of the performance still set for the twenty-first?"

"We hope so, Madame," Meg replied, snacking on her own bread and keeping her eyes peeled for Maurice.

"Good. I would love to see an opera, and I hope the Populaire will open its fancy doors soon," she said as helped Maurice hand the boxes over.

"There! Want me to put it on the account Lizzy?" she asked as I got a better grip on my parcels.

"Yes, if you please." I replied and slid a few francs over for the sweet bread.

"No! No Miss Lizzy, don't you dare!" She replied and came over and put the lot back in my pocket. "Don't you even think about it. And that reminds me!" She reached over the counter and pulled out two more loafs and placed them on top of the boxes in my hands. "For your younger stepsisters. Tell them and your stepmother I said hello. Your mum as well, Meg." Madame Carte said and opened the door for us.

"Bye Madame Carte and thank you!" Meg and I chimed in unison.

"Don't worry about it! Be careful getting back! Come and see us again!" She shouted at our retreating backs.

We window shopped as we headed back to Monsieur Dugall's small business. The chilly December wind gutted a few of the candles when we opened the door, making the room seem much less friendly. But once Monsieur Dugall came in, the dark and forbidding room warmed up considerably.

"Good afternoon, my good Mademoiselles! You are right on time, for I just put the finishing touches on the cloak. I hope it is to your satisfaction." he said cheerfully as he draped the cloak elegantly over the counter. Meg and I both watched in awe as the wing-like edges frilled out and caught the air.

I placed the boxes down on the floor and came over to where he was, my eyes never leaving the magnificent piece of cloth. I ran a hand over the inner and outer lining, the gold and black shining in the dim light.

"Monsieur Dugall, it is perfect. In fact it looks better than new. Thank you once again for your prompt work," I replied as I pulled the purse out once more.

He stilled my hands before I could pull out a single coin. "Mademoiselle Brett, you have done enough by showing me that my father's masterpiece is in fine condition. All I ask of you is to tell the owner that he has done a wonderful job of keeping it intact for so long." he said, his smiling voice soft and gentle.

"Monsieur . . . " I began, once more trying to dig in my purse.

"No, no I will brook no refusals, I'm quite deaf to them you know," he replied as he shooed us to the door.

"Thank you once again, my dear young ladies. I hope to see you again soon!" He waved.

"Monsieur, I don't know how I will ever repay you . . . " I tried yet again to get him to take some money.

"Nonsense! Just continue taking care of that cloak. It was my father's last piece to work on, and it brought back such wonderful memories. Now go on, my girls!" He grinned and continued to wave until we were beyond his sight.

After a slow and relaxing lunch at a nearby cafེ, Meg and I returned to the opera house late that afternoon. We said our goodbyes at the main stairway.

"Thank you so much for inviting me out today Meg." I said, handing her two of the gingerbread men.

She laughed as she took the little cookies from me. "I had fun, Lizzy! And besides, you saved me from a rather boring class that I would have had to teach. Your cousin Aloysia is in it." She smirked slightly and tossed her golden hair behind her back. "It's for our, how shall I put it, slow students." She and I had a good laugh at that, for Aloysia thought herself to be the greatest ballerina that had ever graced the earth.

Once we had gone our separate ways, I once again began the long trudge down to my room. Though I knew many of the shorter routes to several of the other places in the opera house, there never seemed to be one for my room. So I had to wind up and down the same hallways that had greeted me the first time I had ever set foot in this monstrous building.

I gazed up toward the small windows that graced the upper part of the halls. As I was watching the sun catch slightly in one of the panes, I felt a chill run up my spine. Gasping sharply, I arched my back slightly at the sudden feeling. But it didn't stop there, this time it raced all over my body until it had me shivering and clutching at the wall for support, followed by the now familiar dizziness. Colors blended sharply and my very breath seemed to be squeezed out of my lungs.

Gripping the wall, I slowly edged myself to the floor. There I remained until everything stopped dancing. A deep rasping came from my chest and I felt myself begin to cough. I tried to hold it back for as long as I could, but the thick cough came up anyhow.

I sat there, hacking my lungs out for a few moments, then like always the strange feelings were gone. I ran a shaking hand over my brow. _These spells were lasting longer each time they came._

I stood up slowly, and trudged on to my room.

Later that night I went into the now deserted kitchens to bundle up Erik's things and deposit them at the spot behind the wall.

I had eaten dinner in the main dining room along with everyone else that night. Though there were the odd whispers all around me I was surprisingly able to enjoy myself. Meg and several of her friends were very welcoming and friendly toward me and I felt quite at home. The gingerbread men went over remarkably well at the table and my stepmother even began to talk of making it a tradition every Thursday night.

Soon after ten o'clock everyone began to make their goodbyes, either to call it a day or to spend a Parisian night out on the town. I excused myself to do the former and returned to my chilly room, curling up with a good book until midnight fell and I was sure everyone else was asleep.

I tightened the knot on the bundle of folded clothes, his newly fixed cloak on top, and began to package up some food.

Looking about, I grabbed several hams from the meat locker. I moved about the main kitchen wrapping up breads, cheeses, and a scattering of vegetables and fruits. As I passed by the counter, I spotted the last box of gingerbread men. I smiled softly and picked up the last ten little men and bundled it all up.

Feeling that I had gotten all that he would require for a month at least I silently edged my way out of the kitchen doors and moved onward to the auditorium.

It was pitch dark on the stage and I moved cautiously over props and discarded costumes. When I came back later, I would light several candles to help me with my task, but for now I had to get this to the mysterious Erik without being spotted.

Soon I found myself edging along the same wall that I had raced across when Cabartte had been chasing me. I placed the bundles on the ground and felt along the bottom of the wall panel until my fingers encountered the silver switch.

With a quiet groan the wall slid back and I picked up the bundles, ready to push them into the small wooden space before the stone passageway when something caught my ears.

I stood ridged for a moment, just content to listen. It was a soft melody that seemed to be coming from the passageway, faint but none the less lovely. I could just make out the scratches of the violin played so forlornly and beautifully I felt my breath catch. _Is that him? _

I could have stood there entranced forever but a sharp footstep jolted me out of my reverie. Without thinking, I grabbed up the precious bundles and threw myself inside the room.

The false wall closed silently behind me. If my ears weren't deceiving me, he was far away and playing a hauntingly lovely piece, one that compelled me to follow it.

So with light feet I stepped out into the slippery stone passageway, the violin wafting up at me. Though every fiber in my being said no, something else was leading me now, and I began to walk down the dimly lit stairs. My only thought and only care was the music.


	24. Under the Opera House

**A/N: Thank you once more for all the reviews, and to CelticHeart for editing on such short notice. Ok all, here is the deal…I sadly won't be able to post another chapter for a few weeks due to a family trip. :Waves a small, sad flag: Huzza. But I swear I shall return with several chapters::Crosses heart: Until then, I tried to end this chapter with out a cliffe. Best wishes to everyone who reads this.**

**Chapter 23**

The walls were slick with water, a deep grey that shimmered and shined in the dim torchlight. My feet gripped the steps weakly and I had to press my hands to the walls to keep my precarious balance. A sharp hiss would fill the air for a few moments when a drip of icy cold water streamed down the stone and hit the flames of the torches.

But the music, the deep and hauntingly lovely sound, still seemed to fill me deeply and completely. My steps were slow and determined, and yet a part of me was screaming.

_What are you doing Lizzy! _

Throwing my hand on the damp wall, I forced myself to halt. My fingers gripped the freezing stones with a harsh force, my knuckles turning white. Breathing softly, I closed my eyes. _Why are you doing this? Whats happening to me!_

I nearly turned then. But the part of me that wasnt worrying about anything but the music gained a new strength. I felt warm; warm and comforted. The low tap of my laced boots echoed lightly once more.

The temperature seemed to drop sharply as I continued onward, and my breath become tighter in my lungs. A low hushing sound also seemed to gently sway with the music. It seemed to make me tilt slightly as the thin strands danced elegantly against my mind.

The stone passageway melted into a dark tunnel, one where the torches gleamed menacingly. I could feel my mind slipping under, drowning in the sounds. All that I was even aware of was my feet, and only so my pace wouldnt slacken again. My hand dropped its slow trail on the walls as the steps evened out and I found myself walking on cobblestones.

I dont know how long I walked under my trance. How many different turns or other hallways that I took. I just made my adjustments when I could hear the music drifting elsewhere, shifting my course when it became faint or to the left or right. But now it seemed to dissolve into nothing no matter what path I took. The strings were wavering and slowing. The song was coming to a close.

Then just as suddenly as the impulse to move forward had come, it ended, right when the final piercing note shivered through the stone walls and flickering flames. I nearly dropped the heavy basket that was resting precariously in my arms into a deep dark tunnel of water. Clutching at the precious goods I hastily pulled myself back from the rather foreboding passageway that seemed to lead straight into a dark lake.

Shaking my head sharply as my unsteady feet attempted to find better traction, I peered down toward what would have been a rather wet dead end.

Dark amethyst waves shushed and churned at the few protruding stones that hung over the edge. I moved my eyes upward, and had to work hard to catch my breath. I seemed to be standing in some kind of underground cellar, a cellar that had been filled with water.

The massive stone arches rose majestically over my head and more streams of condensation seemed to pour down the chilled walls. A few more of the same hissing torches were winking over the waters a few feet down and the tunnel seemed to continue to stretch on into the darkness.

There was nothing peaceful or calming about this subterranean lake now that the soft violin had halted its serenade. A low groaning of pipes and another flicker and hiss of a taper caused me to jump slightly. Long shadows morphed into terrifying and deadly shapes that were ready to swoop down on me at any instant, and I quickly turned on my heel.

I dashed up the first few yards looking desperately for something, anything, that would give me a clue as how to return to the upper world. Only when I found myself pacing down another dark tunnel, one that ran right along the lake, did I realize the full gravity of my current situation.

_I had no clue where I was, and even if I did, this labyrinth of catacombs and tunnels would soon confuse me. _

I turned and looked a few feet behind me. Narrowing my eyes slightly I put the basket filled with food and Eriks clothes down. I braced myself against the stone arches, holding my body over the lake. There, just a stones throw away, was the same ledge that I had been standing on only a few moments before.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, I moved back to my basket. I placed my head in my hands, both amused and terrified. _What was I going to do?_

Then as if an answer to my pleas, the soft sound of organ keys bounced all around me. Lifting my head and whirling toward the sudden noise, I could feel my hope rising. It wasnt close, but it also wasnt a faint or deceiving echo.

Taking a moment to gather both my courage and my bearings on where the organ was coming from, I slowly bent to pick up the heavy basket. _There has to be away out of here._

Hoisting the handle up on my shoulder, I determinedly began to follow the sound.

The torches became much more numerous and larger as I walked further along. One blazed so high I had to hastily pull myself back from it to keep my sleeve from catching on fire. But as I descended deeper, the air became thinner and icier. The shock of the freezing blast on my throat and lungs kept my breathing shallow. I could also feel a spell descending upon me once more.

More then once I had to lean against the stones and try and pant in deeper breaths. I tried t to think about something, _anything_, else when I could feel my lungs and rib cage rattling as the next wave came on. I counted, I even tried humming or running my hands harder along the stone. But nothing helped, and I knew I would soon be wheezing and gasping for air.

Fortunately, though my walk was a slow and rough one, the music didnt stop. At times it seemed to mirror my frustration and pain at being so helplessly lost. Unlike the trance inducing sweet melody that had been playing earlier, this one had much more power and spirit. The keys would bang rapidly and almost cruelly about at times, while remaining painfully restrained. It was almost as if the player was both afraid to be heard, or to make his ragged emotions known.

I had been walking with my head downcast for a few moments when I chanced to glance up. I jolted to a stop, pulling my basket close to me.

There, just a few inches ahead was another lake. But this one seemed to have some sort of small island that had been built out of its cave like wall. An island that was filled with chairs, books, music stands, and candles that gleamed like a thousand jewels.

Moving softly and silently forward I edged myself over to the side of the tunnel. It was both beautiful and strange. A whole world that seemed to be frozen down here in the bowels of the Opera Populaire. A tiny little piece of humanity that could only belong to one person. Erik.

My gaze roamed over the small gondola that rested on the shore where the same hauntingly dark waters lapped and whispered. Several pipes of an organ shook and trembled as the music swelled and danced in the open space. The brass groaned slightly and I watched, fascinated by the man who was playing them.

His back was to me and he seemed utterly unaware of my presence. While he didnt look relaxed, it was a different side of him that I had not seen before. Without his cloak or vest he looked much less fearful, yet he didnt seem to be any less of a danger to me. His shoulders rose and I could see the muscles rippling under his thin white shirt. The back of his chestnut hair gleamed in all the piercing lights of the candles, and his head moved from side to side as he played.

I leaned back against the wall, just content to listen and watch this man. He was so powerful and deadly but now he just seemed to be another component of the music, another note or bar that held the final melody together. He fit perfectly into this world.

My back relaxed slightly, and for the first time in a while I felt perfectly at ease. It was almost as if everything that had been worrying me, Cabartte, my aunt, and now just being lost in this maze, had drifted away. Closing my eyes I felt my hands loosen, the handle on my basket slipping a bit in my grasp.

A sharp crack of glass on stone jarred me painfully. Crouching down, I tried to still the spinning and whirring shards, catching the candle that had once rested in the jar. But now something had draped itself over me.

My eyes ran slowly over a long and foreboding shape that stretched over my form. Swallowing harshly I raised my gaze up to the man who stood beside me. His gaze was anything but amused. The golden orbs now over rode the green and blue colors that had once swam in their depths, and his jaw was set in a harsh line.

He didnt say a word as he motioned for me to rise with a simple flick of a finger. For a moment I found my self captivated by the hand that was uncovered by the ebony leather glove. But as I could feel his anger rising I moved steadily to my feet, my gaze unable to meet his.

I contented myself with studying his open shirt, running my eyes over his chest. My breath was becoming labored again, and a slow panic filled my mind as my lungs seemed to tighten.

"What are you doing here?"

His voice made me jump. It was low and forced, the sound almost ground out through his clenched teeth. I tried to steady myself before I answered; it wouldnt do to fall to pieces right in front of him.

"I . . . I got . . . " I finally managed, but his rage had been given ample time to rise and bubble over.

"You _what?_ Why are you down here, my dear? It isnt safe you know, for there would be no one to hear your screams save dear old Erik. And you may find Im very impartial to young ladies who deliberately disobey my orders." He moved closer to me, and I took an unsteady step backwards.

"I didnt mean to . . . " I tried once more.

"I dont _care _what you didnt mean to do! You are down here, are you not? So apparently what you did not mean to do was over ridden by your damnable curiosity! What the devil do you think you are doing, may I ask? Or do you have DePerix alerted to my presence already?"

I backed up even further, trying to find the strength just to breathe. My hands clutched at the walls in my panic, and yet he paced even closer to me. Even without the dark cloak and clothes, he could instill terror.

With one hand, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me sharply to him, until I was inches from his face. Wincing and tugging against him, I tried in vain to pull myself away. He merely moved his face closer to mine. The white mask glowed in the light and his eyes were on fire, a forest of green with yellow flames.

"_WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!" _His voice was nothing but malice and rage. There was no loveliness, no kindness in it at all.

I clenched my eyes shut, and suddenly the air rushed back into my lungs. Nearly gasping with relief, I finally met his fierce look and matched it with one of my own. With all the strength I possessed, I shoved him away.

Caught off guard, he stumbled and I inched back to the wall, away from this destructive man who was still glaring at me.

"I got lost! I was putting the supplies that I slaved over for the past two days in that little room, then . . . " I trailed off, but my voice had been cold and low and it seemed to have caught his attention.

"Then what? You went to . . . "

"I _went _to no one! I have not betrayed you in anyway! The only reason I said anything to Aunt Maria was to get her to go! To frighten her away for the time being! You of all people must know that little trick!" I raised my voice despite myself, clenching my hands at my sides.

"Then why, pray tell, are you here?" His tone had lessened in its anger, but there was still something about his body language that warned me to choose my next words carefully.

"I heard music. I . . . I dont know what exactly happened to me, perhaps you will be so good as to explain it. I couldnt help myself. I followed it. Then as you can see, I got lost in this maze. I had no idea I would meet with you down here."

He narrowed his eyes, but the rage that had seemed to consume him only a few seconds before had dropped. He was now back to being the sarcastically polite man that I had encountered in the past.

"Well, my dear Miss Brett, we are in a spot, arent we? And how do you plan on getting home?" He seemed to treat me like a small wounded bird, and he was the tabby with sheathed claws who batted about at me until he tired of his game and dealt a final blow.

"Well Monsieur Le Phantom, or Erik, whichever you so choose to be called; I was hoping you might be kind enough to point me in the correct direction." I stated coolly. He smirked slightly.

"I would be honored to show your delightfully meddling self out of my home. But tell me, what is this?" He tapped his long boot against the large basket that I put down when the glass had broken.

I remained where I was, and he looked up at me his gaze less amused. Then with a sigh he moved back toward the lake and the odd little island. Once he was far enough that I was sure I could easily move out of his grasp should he choose to lose his temper once more, I walked to the basket.

Picking it up and hooking my arm into the handle once more, I arched an eyebrow in his direction. "Is there any place I could put this? It has all your clean clothes and some food. I only hope its to your standards, Monsieur."

With an annoyed snort he gestured for me to step forward. I moved hesistantly toward another small drop off into the water. Looking around I saw no bridge or walkway where I could avoid getting my feet wet, and I glanced up to where he stood.

His boots were dripping with water and he was watching me intently from his little shore. "Im not going to carry you. Its not that deep, only slightly chilled," he said, fixing me with a small scowl.

I wrinkled my nose and leapt with both feet into the water. I was rewarded with a small strand of curses as some of the freezing liquid hit his chest. Slushing my way over to him, I hoisted the basket on my hip.

Once I reached the stone island, I looked expectantly over at him. Tilting his head, he indicated a small table that was over a good fifteen feet from me. With a wary eye on him as I moved to it, I placed my load down on the rough wooden surface.

To my surprise he came and stood by me, so close that I could feel a slight warmth from his closeness. With an expert flick of his wrist he pulled out the cloak from the tissue paper. I waited with slightly baited breath as he ran his eyes over the material. Then, without a word, he slung the garment over his shoulders and fastened it on his shoulders. Suddenly I wasnt looking at anyone who could possibly be named Erik; I was staring at the Phantom of the Opera. A myth, something who could outlast time, an immortal.

"Well done. I take it you found the shop where it was bought; the material is an exact match." He sated, gesturing to the yellow lining that peeked from the bottom where his boots rested.

I nodded, unable to speak for a few moments. "The man said that he and his father made it nearly seventeen years ago."

"That sounds about right. Did you manage to wash all of the vests?" He answered. His mind clearly wasnt focused on my question. Rolling my eyes slightly, I didnt give him the pleasure of a response and let him leaf through the rest.

Once he had finished and combed through it several times over, he met my gaze again. I lifted my head from its slightly tilted position that I had while he had unpacked it and studied his eyes. The blue had returned and now seemed to over power the other colors completely. His eyes it seemed, reflected his moods, and apparently the sooner I learned to recognize their changes the better.

Clearing his throat slightly, he moved away from me. I watched as he picked up a vest and pulled it on under the cloak, buttoning it up. _He still seems so uncomfortable when I stare at him . . . _

He turned back to me, his whole face blank. It was almost as if the few moments of banter and the terrifying yelling match hadnt taken place at all. He had always been this silent and brooding figure, almost symbolic in his mannerisms. His whole personality seemed to change when he donned that cloak.

"Come," he said, extending his hand to me, gesturing for me to follow him. Picking up the now empty basket, I rearranged my wet skirt and apron and fell a few steps behind him.

He seemed to glide almost effortlessly through the water and as we moved down the tunnels. Nothing could faze him, he knew these underground passageways like the back of his hand, and in no time I found us in the place where we had first met.

As always the wooden cramped space seemed to smother me, but I didnt have long to wait for him to pull the mechanism.

With the now familiar groan, the wall slid back and I found myself out in the darkened halls that I now knew so well. I turned back to the man who was still standing behind me. He just looked at me for a long moment.

"Do make sure that this lovely meeting doesnt happen again. You may find I wont become so agreeable the next time. Is your wrist all right?" he asked, his voice a low soothing tone in my ears.

I looked down at my right hand where he had gripped me so tightly. Sure enough a small ring of dark bruises were popping up, but a reassuring flick told me that everything else was sound. "I think it will be fine. Sorry for . . . " I was cut off by his quick reply.

"Just be sure you do not concern yourself with my affairs, Elizabeth."

Like always, I gasped softly when he used my name. It was such a rare occurrence, and he could make it sound so elegant that I found myself speechless each time. I just nodded to him and he smirked, his hand moving back to the switch at his side.

Before the door shut and he melted into the dark shadows I called out to him.

"Thank you, Erik."


	25. The Dress Rehearsal

**A/N: Hullo all. I am somewhat back from my lovely family excursions, so I decided that while I was in town I would try and get a chapter up. Before I begin this one however I just wanted to say why exactly I decided to take the "love" part of this story slowly. Erik from what I have gathered over the years of watching several versions of POTO and reading the novels is an emotionally hurt person.**

**He isn't about to just whip his head about when the next pretty young girl walks in front of him, which is precisely why I had him contemplating suicide at the first. Christine has left a major scar on him; one that in time I want Lizzy to try and heal. Don't worry though; I've been biting at the bit to get into the romance as much as some of you. It's coming don't worry, but there has to be a path that leads to it first.**

**Yet again thanks for all the reviews, I do cherish them all. I hope this helps to clear up the big question of why they seem to loathe each other at the moment.**

**Once more, a big round of applause to CelticHeart. **

**Chapter 24**

It was late by the time I finally found myself out on the main stage once more. My sopping skirts and boots left telltale watermarks up and down the passageways behind the main stage curtain. Shivering and rubbing my arms rapidly, I sloshed my way forward. I tried to ease the slight ache in my wrist by thinking of other things. Yet every thought somehow turned to his melodious voice, his foreboding presence, his intoxicating smell.

Pausing when I reached my bucket that I had left on the wooden tiles, I gazed down at my wrist. In the dim light I could see the slightly flushed purple racing across my thin veins. Running my thumb gently over the injured area I closed my eyes as I could feel his strong hand close over it once more.

_Why are you doing this? Why me? Why now of all times?_

Yet there was something about him that I couldn't quite push out of my mind. A part of me feared him, yet I always felt thrilled, excited.

_There is something wrong with you, Lizzy, _I thought as I dipped a mop into the now lukewarm waters. Tracing swirling patters across the wood, my eyes ran along the upper rows of the box seats.

When my gaze rested for a moment on box five, the box that was not to be rented to anyone, I thought I saw the thick, plush drape fall back down. It was almost as if it had been lifted so someone could get a better view of the stage.

But then again it might just have been a shadow.

"Sophie! Sophie, come down!" Renee shouted as she and I walked into the rather bustling kitchen. It was dinnertime and my stepmother had needed all of our help to move the steaming plates and pots into the other dining room.

Brushing back a stray hair into my cap, I looked over at Renee as I ground my hands into the floury dough. She was flustered as she paced back and forth over the stone tiles. Tonight was the third day before the performance, we had entered into the final week, and understandably everyone was a little on edge.

"Oh where is she!" Renee muttered as she dashed over to the stove to pull the screaming kettle off the flames.

"She's most likely trying to finish folding all the petticoats and other things in her room." I replied, rolling the thick gooey dough under and over. Renee always acted like a nervous cat whenever trouble came about, and at the moment she was starting to grate on my nerves.

"She should have been finished with that hours ago! I think I'll just go back there and give a good rap on her door!" Renee spat, her foot half raised.

"No! I'll go Renee!" I cried out. The moment the words were out of my mouth I regretted them. Now Renee's dark eyes were glancing at me curiously under her furrowed brow.

Shaking my head at my mistake, I quickly tried to rectify my outburst. "That is, you always do so much better then I do at making rolls. I've always been clumsy at it." I replied, lifting my hands in exasperation.

With a slightly clouded expression, Renee accepted my answer and moved over to where I was.

"The only problem Lizzy is that my dress shall be covered in flour," she said, pointing to my dress front and my face.

Rolling my eyes at her I paced over to the apron hook. "Oh, here!" I cried in mock exasperation, tossing the fabric over to her. With a grin she caught it in mid air and swiftly tied it about her waist.

Once she was in place I hastened down the hallway that led off of the kitchens.

There was only one reason as to why Sophie would be in her room at this hour, and it wasn't to do chores. I only hoped that I wouldn't interrupt a lesson.

Once I was outside of her small mahogany door, I pressed up against the wood. When I could her nothing except her soft humming as she moved from one place to another, I knew it was safe to knock.

After a few light raps, the door was pulled open and Sophie's grin met me. When she pulled open the door further I peered in beyond her. Clothes were draped neatly and primly folded over chairs and her bed. It was apparent that tonight she hadn't been expecting him.

"Did you not hear Renee?" I asked as I stepped in after her. She turned guiltily toward me, her eyes downcast.

"I heard her," she muttered. I sighed softly.

"Sophie, why didn't you come when you were called?" I asked, picking up piles of folded clothes around the room.

"I thought that he might come," she said quietly as she watched me move about her room.

"Do you mean to tell me you haven't had a lesson yet?" I asked, pausing to look over at her.

"No, not for nearly two weeks. Well, he did come one time, just to make sure I had all the music down. The songs that the…oh!" She paused, clamping her hand over her mouth.

When she tried to explain herself I rolled my eyes and finished her statement for her.

"I know, I know. It's a big secret between your voice teacher and you and I am a meddler who just asks too many questions. Yes…I've heard it all before."

She nodded and dashed to pull the door open for me. I moved slowly, my arms filled with laundry. She closed the door behind us and we walked toward the gleaming kitchens.

"Lizzy, I don't think he minds you all that much." Sophie said when I tossed all the clothes down in the small basket that I used to store them in. I arched an eyebrow at her before I began to sort ladies garments from men's.

"Well I mean…well there was this one time before he left that I actually got to talk to him about things other then music. I told him that you were worried about what Aloysia and Aunt Maria were up to. He laughed! He said that you were a smart enough girl to figure them out soon enough. I think he admires you Lizzy. I mean he just seems to not mind you as much as he minds me. He gets dreadfully angry when I try to ask him things." She trailed off. And I found that a small grin was creeping its way across my face in spite of myself.

"Well that's nice to know. Too bad he won't share the secret with me." I said with a meaningful look at Sophie's blue orbs. With a laugh she shook her head and twirled over to Madeline and Renee who were picking up silverware.

I watched as she and the others began to move off toward the dining hall. I wished that I could join them, but tonight would be another long haul for me. With the performance looming, the days flew by and I found myself more overburdened with work than ever.

But something that Sophie had said earlier was weighing heavily on my mind. _She hadn't seen him in two weeks. For two weeks there has been no sign of the man who held everything that I loved in the palm of his hand. _

It was an odd occurrence even for him. I looked down at my wrist that had been gripped so harshly that night, now so long ago. The deep purple had faded, but it still throbbed every once in awhile. A reminder to me that even though he "admired me" he was still dangerous.

Stretching my back before I sat down in the chair by the cackling fire I ran over the past few days in my head. Though hectic, nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. And I must admit it worried me.

Just when I was about to pick up the shirt that I was mending for one of the lead actors, the kitchen doors creaked open. Turing in my chair slightly, my eyes met Aloysia's empty gaze.

She glided in on her neat pink slippers over to where I was. Her golden hair was bouncing as she took her long strides over to me. There was an air of mischief to her and I prepared myself as best I could.

"What is it?" I asked rather tartly once she stood by me.

As usual she was smacking on a slice of hard candy and it took her a few moments to pull the bar out of her mouth.

"I know something you don't know," she taunted, her brown eyes sparkling slightly.

"What a surprise! Here I was thinking you were beyond teaching. Tell me dear cousin, what is this something?" I asked, my voice dripping with malice.

Oblivious to my verbal attack on her, she plodded on. "I hope you like what he's going to do with that brat."

Narrowing my eyes I replied through clinched teeth. "What?"

Smirking at my obvious annoyance she danced lightly about me. "That's right. Mother told me all about it."

"Well Aloysia, what all did she say?" I asked, my anger rising. _What the devil do you have up your sleeve Erik? Why have you conveniently disappeared?_

"Well…just that something big was going to happen with Sophie. And me! She said that I shall steal the show."

"Delightful. As usual Aloysia you are of no help." I sighed. Part of me wanted to get up and shake her so hard her teeth would rattle, but I knew that would do me no good.

"And when is this going to happen?" I asked.

Sticking her candy back into her mouth I managed to catch her last words over the spittle that sprayed out. "Not sure."

"Is that it then?" I asked, moving back to my shirt. For a moment I caught a pout spreading across her face, and then she huffed and left the room.

Shaking my head, I tired to run through all that had ever been said about Sophie and Erik. What could he possibly have planned?

Props where flying everywhere as the dress rehearsal began. The opera house radiated a sense of excitement and apprehension.

Everyone threw themselves into fixing things up. Several of the ballet girls even volunteered to help Renee and me with the cleaning. Everything was scrubbed from top to bottom. A great deal of food was cooked for the Gala; the seamstresses were putting in long hours mending clothes. The rehearsals stretched later and later each night. Everyone knew that the future of the Opera House depended on the success of this opera.

Night had fallen on Paris but the candles were still glowing brightly all around the stage. Several of the stage crew and my sister Renee and I had decided to get a glimpse of the opera before it opened.

Everything was assembled; it was as if we were getting our own private performance. Tomorrow night we would be lucky if we could see from the upper rafters, but tonight we had the best seats in the house.

It was almost time for the alto's solo, and I moved a few seats back from the others to watch it, preparing myself for her rather weak singing.

With the exception of Cabartte, the managers were assembled down on the left. To my intense relief, other urgent matters demanded his attention. Then all at once the orchestra began to play the hauntingly beautiful song that introduced the alto.

Leaning back in my chair I let myself be enveloped in the cascading sounds of the strings and the lone harp. But as my head tilted back I caught a faint line of movement on the upper floor. Jerking my head up, I scanned Box Five. Nothing. Trying to shake of my sudden feeling of dread and misfortune, I looked back to the stage.

No one came out. The orchestra even began the entrance again, yet there was no sign of the alto.

Then, suddenly, a loud piercing scream echoed from the back. Leaping to my feet, my heart pounding in my chest I gazed at the stage.

She ran out faster than anything I had ever seen.

Her long black hair streaming behind her like a flag, her eyes rolling back and her hands clutching a note, she came screaming onto the stage.

"_Don't let him near me! Keep him away! Those hollow eyes!" _Her voice carried far and wide. It took five of the stagehands to hold her still, one finally pinching a nerve in her neck to stop her clawing hands and kicking feet.

Cries rang out all over the house as the horrified onlookers took in the scene. Then all eyes ran over to the managers who were standing stock still, their black suits reflecting the suddenly somber mood that drifted about in the aftershock.

DePerix was the first to step forward. His shivering form walked over to the slip of paper that had fallen from her clutches.

My breathing felt harsh again, and my whole body seemed to shake with an odd chill that raced to my very bones. With all eyes on him, DePerix paled as he lifted the paper and began to read.

He looked up to the stage, and then out where the now-unconscious alto was laying. His mind made up, he lifted the paper over his head as his thin voice filled the room.

_"Where is Sophie Brett? Bring her in here now; she is to be our new leading alto!"_

It was nearly impossible for my to breathe. I watched in horror as Sophie disentangled herself from the others down at the front and began to walk up on the stage.

A low swish echoed over my head and I lifted my eyes to the layer of seats above me. _You horrid son of a…_

I rushed outside into the staircase, hoping beyond hope that everyone was too entranced to notice my hasty exit. When I reached the edge of the upper stairs, I glanced about the mirrors and panels about me. When I distinctly heard the swish again I harshly spoke.

"Where are you, Erik? I know you are in here, show yourself!"

A low chuckle rumbled from the mirror that was to my right and I turned towards it angrily. "Erik!"

"There is no need to shout, my dear young girl. I am merely fixing a problem with the casting. Your sister knows the alto line well. She may be young but she can handle the part." His voice was velvet as he stepped in front of me, just to my left.

Startled, my head swam at my sudden movement, but I met his gaze. "That is not the issue! What are you thinking?"

He smirked and moved behind me. "I am thinking of the opera house. And I won't have it fail because of your pride. I have always thought of this house above all else," he said softly, and I felt his fingers wrap about my neck.

I tensed under the warm leather and I could feel his breath hot on my neck.

"What did I tell you about getting in my way?" He tightened his grip on me. Then suddenly he let go. Moving in front of me, he peered down at my eyes. For a moment a wave of concern seemed to pass over him.

"You are burning up." He stated simply, but I was not appeased.

"You are not thinking of this opera! She's not _Christine_ you fool!" I yelled.

In that instant everything seemed to move in slow motion. I watched as his face that was visible behind the half mask tightened, his eyes flashing dangerously. Then his hand lifted, and the next thing I knew was my face was hit with a bruising force.

My whole neck snapped to the side, and I raised the back of my palm to my injured cheek. For a moment neither he nor I moved. He lowered his offending hand to his side and to my surprise moved a step closer to me.

I tried to breathe. The room was spinning; colors were whirling together and the room danced about. I took a step to the side, but was caught by a hard leather hand. For an instant my body leaned out over the staircase, and then I was pulled back against something both hard and soft. It smelled of the fine liquor and incense scent that I would know anywhere.

He pressed my trembling and heaving form tightly, his powerful arms wrapping about my shoulders. A hand ran lightly over my cheek, the fingers soft and gentle. Everything was going dim; a strange feeling was passing through me. I wanted to just give up, but my mind was screaming at me to stay awake.

"Lizzy…I…" The hand formed into a fist over my face and pulled me closer to the warm chest. I felt so cold, and a deep shiver wound though me. My throat tightened, making it difficult for air to reach my lungs.

"Erik!" A familiar voice cried out the name that I thought that I alone knew. Through the haze that was forming over my eyes I tilted my head to see Madame Giry.

She stood at the foot of the staircase looking up, her form rigid and tense. Her gray eyes ran over the two of us as she raced up the steps.

Tossing her cane down she gently pulled my head up and over to her, the rest of my trembling body following.

"Give her to me, Erik. We must lay her down. Good God! She's on fire!"

I tried to walk as she led me down the stairs, away from the man who had been both my attacker and comforter in the past few moments.

"Stop it Elizabeth! I've got you." She whispered harshly in my ear. When we reached the bottom of the steps Madame Giry turned to look up. To my shock Erik was still standing there, his arms hanging uselessly by his side. His deep blue eyes met mine, sorrow and pain coursing through them.

"Go! Go Erik, before you are seen!" Madame Giry called out.

For a long instant he didn't move, he just continued to stare at me. Then with a small nod to both of us he melted into the shadows.

My breathing seemed to worsen as I tried to walk with her down the hallways to my room. These spells had become more frequent as the week had gone on. But this new attack was ten times stronger then the others. I gasped in my next shaky breath, trying to not pass out. Everything was dimming.

Then, as we rounded the corner to my room it all went black, and my air cut off completely.


	26. Scarlet Fever

**A/N: I think I actually got death threats for the speedy update of this one...**

**:Hugs all of her reviewers anyway...even the ones who shook me about:**

**Thanks so much for all your encouragement on this. It really helps me and this story a lot.**

**Three cheers for CelticHeart!**

**Chapter 25**

**Elizabeth**

"Lay her down. She's burning up, but she says she's freezing. Where is that doctor! Meg, go and look for her stepmother would you? Shhh Lizzy, just try to relax."

My body trembled violently as I tried to sit up and grab a throw from the end of my bed. I was so cold my teeth began to chatter. A hand pushed down lightly on my shoulders, edging me back into the bed. It was still difficult to breathe, and colors kept flashing over my closed eyelids. _What's happening to me?_

"Grab those blankets! Try and get her warm. It is all right Lizzy. The doctor is on his way."

Some voice kept coming close to my ear, the sound of it speeding up then slowing as the words reached me. Groaning I tried to shift my head away but another wave of darkness threatened to overpower me when I did so. Blearily, I tried to open my eyes.

The room was bright, every candle seemed to be lit. Shadows of people raced across the ceiling and walls and the low voices or shouts were driving me insane. Then my vison seemed to cloud over and I had to blink several times to regain it. A rapid flipping noise startled me and I edged over to the wall.

"I do not know what it is. Have you tried to get her to drink anything?" The tone was terribly slow and droning to me.

"No. Here child . . . " I felt a strong hand cup the back of my head, tilting my neck up until I was in a sitting position. The cold rim of a glass touched my lips and a chilled liquid passed through my chapped lips. I tried to contract my throat so I could swallow the bitter wine, but to my despair it wouldn't. Sputtering up the drink, I was held until my spasm passed then lain back down.

More rapid flipping. I shuddered with an unearthly cold that seemed to run in my very bones. A cool hand passed over my brow. It remained there for a few moments and I memorized the callous that ran over the palm and fingertips. It slid down my face until it lifted off at my chin. The flipping noise stopped, suddenly the whole room was deathly quiet.

My hand was lifted from under the covers and I fought for a moment to put my chilled fingers back under the warm blanket. The strong hand rested on my wrist, probing at a vein that weakly beat out my life's pulse.

With a tender motion my hand was replaced under the covers. The room seemed to hold its breath. A cold piece of metal was placed on my chest, and I nearly screamed at the shock of it.

"Breath as deeply as you can my dear." The voice, though still strangely slow to my ears, was comforting. I filled my lungs with as much air as I could, then released.

The metal moved over toward my shoulder. "Again."

So it went for a few more breaths that seemed to take more out of me then anything else had. Panting slightly at the exertion, the metal was removed. All was silent, and I tried to snuggle into the blankets once more.

"If I attempt to bleed her, we will lose her. She seems to have some contraction of Scarlet Fever. There is nothing to be done, I am afraid. It would be wise to send for her mother if she has one. If not . . . " The voice trailed off. I heard a small gasp from the other side of the room. It was a harsh sound that made me jump at its closeness.

"Is that all you can give us doctor?" The tone of this voice was higher pitched. Something about its coldness seemed familiar to me, but I couldn't place it.

"I am afraid so. She cannot drink or eat in her present state. And unless you can break the fever that has her then there is nothing to be done." He sounded sorrowful, but my comprehension had been slipping rapidly since Erik had held me. Erik, my mind repeated. What had he done? Why had he held me?

A slight stinging sensation on my cheek reminded me. He had slapped me, then everything went black.

A cold spell took me once more, and the blackness which had been hovering about my vision seemed to close in. I began to close my eyes slowly.

A loud crack of a door being tossed against a wall made me snap them back open. I turned my head toward the offending sound. Then my blankets were thrown off me, and I shivered uncontrollably. I tried to clutch them back, but I felt too weak.

Hands gripped my feet and rubbed harshly on them. The same rough treatment was given to my hands and legs. I didn't feel so cold now. Shifting my head heavily I saw my stepmother's worried eyes.

"Don't move Lizzy, just lie still. There's a good girl." She sounded calm, but I could sense her unease. "I'm not going to lose you too." The rubbing grew harder and I whimpered under the force.

I arched my back slightly and opened my eyes fully.

For the first time I could see clearly. All about my room stood people, some sitting in chairs others crowded about my bed. Meg and Madame Giry's steel grey eyes gazed down into mine. Renee and Peter stood over by the door, both looking on worriedly. Sophie was bouncing and clutching her hands near them. Madeline was rubbing with my stepmother, her black hair hanging about her face. Some of the stage hands who had been sitting with Renee and I were holding their hats and peering at me.

I tried a weak smile, but found that I lacked the strength. Breaths were coming more easily now and I could feel less of the cold that had wrapped itself about me. Now I felt hot, and a sweat began to break out on my forehead.

The same rough hand gripped my wrist again. I gazed up at the man who held my limp arm and looked at pocket watch. He had white whiskers on his face and small eye glasses clutched his nose. Feeling my stare, he looked down at me and smiled genuinely.

"Her pulse is regaining its normal speed."

He ran his hand to my fevered brow. With a sigh he let go and rubbed my arm vigorously along with my stepmother and sister.

"She is out of danger for the moment." He said to my stepmother, halting her hands with his. "I think she will make the night. Her fever has broken for the moment. She will be weak for a few days however. She will need a good strong broth in the morning. Right now she needs darkness and quiet."

I watched as he smiled at my stepmother who nodded at him.

"Thank you doctor, but are sure it is safe to leave her?" My stepmother asked, her hand reaching for mine.

"Quite. You can stay with her but I think she will do better if she is left alone. If I'm not mistaken, we will sound very odd to her at the moment. When a strong fever comes over someone, voices often sound strange." The doctor replied, his eyebrows arching in question at me.

I nodded in answer to his silent enquiry. Everyone did sound odd, but I wasn't sure if I wanted them to leave me so soon.

My stepmother rubbed my cheek lovingly. "Very well sir, if you think this is the best course. I will be back at the first light Lizzy."

When she stood the others filed out after her, a few kissing me on the cheek or squeezing my hand encouragingly. Madeline was the last to leave.

She gazed at me for a moment, then rushed at me. Her arms hugged me tightly yet remained gentle. Then without a word she rose and blew out the candles and shut the door behind her.

The darkness and silence of the room were indeed a welcome comfort to me. Using the last of my energy, I kicked the blankets off my legs and let my head sink into my pillow and a fitful sleep.

**Erik**

_What have you done? _I slammed my fist into the stone wall, drawing blood on my knuckles, but I was beyond caring at this point. I slowed my pace for a moment, my mind reliving that moment on the staircase.

I hadn't even realized that my hand had left my side until I hit her. She reeled for a moment, then when she looked at me her eyes had been filled with such a vicious anger that I lowered the fist that was about to hit her again. That instance seemed a lifetime to me.

Her teeth had clenched in her mouth, her jaw set furiously. But nothing compared to her eyes. They were a light green that shimmered in her anger, and for a moment I wondered why I had never noted their color before. I steeled myself for one of her cutting remarks, remembering the fury that had raced through me when she had insulted Christine.

That must have been the moment that the full weight of what I had done hit me. _I had slapped a woman. Never before in my life had I even laid a hand on one of the opposite sex_. _I had shouted at Christine but I had never harmed her. _

I had snapped out of my thoughts when I saw her expression change from one of rage to confusion. She had gasped slightly, as if she could not breathe. Then her feet stumbled dangerously close to the edge of the stairs. As much as I hated her at that moment, something in me blanched when she nearly teetered over the edge. Without thinking I reached for her.

I grabbed her more harshly then I needed too and she slammed into my chest. Her warm body against mine was a shock to my cold and carefully shielded heart. When she shivered uncontrollably against me, I clutched her to me.

_What have you done? _

I stroked her cheek and once again she felt hot to the touch. There was something terribly wrong with her.

I snapped my head up when I heard Marie Giry calling my name. Her eyes widened at the sight of the two of us. Then she must have caught sight of Elizabeth. Tossing her cane down she picked up her skirts and raced to us.

When she took Elizabeth from me, I resisted the wild urge to clutch her back to me. It was the first time I had touched someone in more than four years, and she hadn't tried to shove away. She had let me hold her. I had never dared to touch Christine in that way for fear that she would be repulsed.

I stared at Elizabeth's flushed face until Marie told me to go. Then self-preservation took over all my other mixed emotions. I fled. Like the sick coward that I was, I fled into the shadows.

Now here I was only a few feet from my home. I chucked grimly at the thought. _What home? I would never know a place that I could call mine. _I took another step forward, trying to push her hurt and venomous eyes out of my mind. But there they were, the green flashing up at me once more. Accusing me of being the self-centered monster that I was. _What have you done? _The small voice at the back of my mind chimed once more.

Suddenly my feet turned and for once I allowed myself to follow them. This time I knew that they would not lead me to Christine's room.

The vent that was outside Elizabeth's room was one of the newer ones and it was not difficult to hear everything that was happening in her now bustling bedroom. When Madeline finally moved, I could see her clearly. Something seemed to hit my gut with a bruising force when I saw her now pale face.

Her eyes were gazing about the room, but didn't appear to be taking much in. She wasn't trembling as hard as she had been but she looked frail. Her breathing seemed to be coming easily to her now and she gave a final effort to kick off some covers before the last candle dimmed into darkness.

My eyes quickly adjusted in the bleakness, a quality that had always come naturally to me. I could see her just as well as I had been in the dim light earlier. Her eyes hadn't closed yet and she shifted restlessly on the bed before finally giving into sleep.

I don't know how long I stood there before I finally pressed the switch that would make her wall give way into the room, but I didn't feel in the least bit tired from my vigil. Grabbing a chair and moving it over to her bedside, I continued to watch her, my eyes running over the cheek that I had hit.

Only when she shifted in her sleep, her brow furrowing and a low moan escaping her lips, did I dare to touch her. She was still burning hot and her face was damp with sweat. She jerked her head from my grasp and groaning slightly, opened her eyes.

I fought back the urge to flee when her eyes rested on me. For a moment she didn't seem to comprehend what she was seeing and then it all came back to her.

She took in a rattling breath and tried to push herself away from me, clutching a blanket to her. But the movement proved to be too much for her. With a low whimper her arm bent at the elbow and she fell back onto the bed.

Although trembling, she was still trying to hold herself up by her arms. She lowered her head. The cap that she always wore over her hair was gone now and I watched in near wonder as wave after wave of golden brown hair shielded her face. Then my attention fell to the tears that shimmered on the air before they hit the mattress.

Shaking her head, she tried to speak but each time she had to swallow thickly. I nearly reached out to her before her voice, thin and quiet began to speak. I halted my half-extended hand and listened.

"Why are you here? What do you want from me? Can't you see anything beyond this plan of yours? Sophie's only thirteen, she's too young. If she sings now for the opera, her voice will be damaged from overuse later on. Why can't you see that? Why can't you . . . " She wept then, her breath coming out in tearful gasps.

"Elizabeth . . . " I began but stopped when she looked up at me.

If her eyes had held a shimmering light green before it was nothing compared to the honey gold they shined now. The pain and confusion in her gaze stilled me.

Swallowing once more, she continued. "You have Sophie. This whole opera house is yours now so I suppose I shall be of no further use to you? Cabartte may still want me you know. That is if I survive this . . . " She stopped and her lips quivered slightly.

Her eyes traveled the room, then came back to me before they dropped their hold when she ducked her head once more. "I don't want to die . . . " She whispered, her voice barely reaching me.

I didn't know what to say. I had used her. I had used her whole family. But none of that had mattered, I would make this opera house succeed once more. But for what? Did I really think that Christine would come back? _Christine . . . _

Her hacking cough brought me back to her. _Elizabeth. _She was still crying, and I did the only thing I knew how to, hoping and praying that she wouldn't recoil from my touch. Reaching out my hand I lightly ran my fingers down her cheek. When she didn't pull away, I moved my whole hand on her small cheek, and to my shock she turned her face into it.

I was beyond stunned as she sobbed into my palm, her fevered skin resting so trustingly against mine. We remained that way for several moments, till her breathing calmed and her eyes drooped in sleep.

Removing my hand, I rose and stood over her still huddled form on the bed. She looked up at me then away. I watched as she tried to ease herself back onto her pillow. When the first attempt proved unsuccessful, I cradled her head in my hands and placed her on the soft linen. Her eyes began to close once more and she shifted deeper into the covers, her chill returning.

Before I flipped the switch that would take me to my home I turned back to her.

"I'm sorry Elizabeth." The words came out low and harshly, but they seemed to reach her. Stirring slightly, green eyes once more met mine. They seemed to echo forgiveness to me in their depths before her lids closed slowly. Nodding slightly to her now sleeping form, I turned and walked into the cold unforgiving passageway that led me home.


	27. An Opera

**A/N: Thanks once again for all the reviews! But I have some rater bad news once more...I will be gone till next Saturday night. This will be, I promise, the last time I'll be gone for the summer. Once more thanks to all of you for putting up with my delays and absences. :Hugs:**

**Special credit once more to CelticHeart!**

**Chapter 26**

It was not a pleasant night for me after he left, that was if he had even come at all. Everything was so dim and cluttered in my mind at that moment that it was a very real possibility that his presence in my room had been just an illusion. But then something would remind me of that warm hand on my face, a stark contrast to the one that had come down on me so hard earlier, and then it would all seem real. A heavy scent of candle and light incense also permeated the air.

Shuddering deeper into my blankets, I tried to relax and fall back to sleep. But this proved more difficult then before. Unlike the time before, when I had been cold and nearly delirious, now I was hot and no matter what position I lay in I couldn't get comfortable. My face was covered with sweat and everything felt close and suffocating to my senses. Turning over so I faced the cool wall, I tried to will sleep to come over me.

When it finally did, it was not a restful one. The slightest noise would wake me, water dripping from the roof, someone's footsteps dashing along the hall, and even my own breathing would cause me to leap up.

It must have still been dark outside when my stepmother entered the room. Wearily opening my eyes I watched as she moved over to me, a bowl of steaming broth in her hand. I tried to sit up when she pulled up a chair by the bed, but she gently pushed me back down.

Shaking her head at me she reached across the room and grabbed several pillows. Once she had a good number in her hand, she lifted my head and propped me up on them.

"There we go. Easy Lizzy, just let me help you. You are still very weak," she said when I tried to take the broth from her. Smiling at me she gathered up a spoonful and eased it into my mouth.

It was warm and nutty and had the faint sweetness of carrots mixed in, and though my throat still felt like it was on fire, I managed to work it down.

"Good girl," she said and repeated the process. I somehow was able to down the entire bowl. Once I had finished, I leaned back into the pillows that were about me and sighed. Though I hated to admit it, even to myself, it had taken a lot of work to make myself eat the whole bowlful, and I was exhausted by the time the last spoonful reached my lips.

My stepmother furrowed her brow at me and gently ran a hand over my forehead.

"You still feel quite warm. I've never seen Scarlet Fever hit someone so suddenly . . . unless of course you've been hiding the symptoms for a while . . . " she paused, gazing intently at me. When I gulped and sunk down lower on the bed guiltily she tutted.

"Lizzy, I thought that you would have grown out of not telling me when you are ill by now. How long?"

Wetting my dry lips, I hoarsely croaked out, "For a number of weeks. I had a few spells just after the last week of November, but they got worse. I really had no idea what was wrong with me so I just ignored it, thinking it would pass."

Sighing she pulled the blankets off my legs once more. "I just wish you would tell me things like you used to . . . I never know anymore what anyone is up to. Renee has taken to being secretive about her and Peter, and now Sophie is the lead alto in the opera, and you just watch it all with eyes that can see more clearly than mine." She began to rub harshly on my calves and I murmured in pain at her treatment.

"I...I don't know what to think anymore stepmama . . . " I said quietly. "So much has happened to me lately and I just feel so . . . lost."

My stepmother paused in her motions and peered up at me under her brown locks. "Lost?

My Lizzy lost? Whatever is the matter my dear?"

I ducked my head slightly at her question. I wanted to tell her everything. All of it . . . Aunt Maria's scheming, Erik's wild concoctions for Sophie and the Opera, but I just shook my head as much as I could. "It's nothing. I'm just worried about silly things, that's all."

Her eyes narrowed and shone with a faint line of tears, but she nodded vigorously and continued her motions on my feet and legs. For a few moments neither of us spoke and only the faint ticking of a clock outside my door broke the silence.

"Is Sophie going to sing tonight?" I asked breathlessly, my stepmother had begun to rub harder on my shoulders and arms and it left me feeling quite winded.

"Yes . . . I don't know who heard her or asked her to learn the part but she will be on the stage tonight. I just hope she isn't shot down by critics . . . she is so young," my stepmother replied, halting her attacks on my person and reaching behind her for something.

When she turned back to me, she held a sopping wet cloth. Applying it on my forehead, I nearly leapt off the bed at the coldness. Suddenly my head felt very light and everything took on a pale pastel look.

"That should do it for the moment . . . " my stepmother said, pressing lightly on the cloth. "Hopefully the fever will begin to disperse after a few hours. But now my darling I must leave you," she kissed my brow as she began to rise. "Don't worry, just try and rest. I think Sophie wants to see you before the dress rehearsal begins."

I raised and lowered my chin in response. It would be good to see Sophie before she went on the great stage to perform for all of Paris. I knew that there was no talking her out of it so I had resigned myself to tell her good luck and not to strain her voice too much tonight.

With one last squeeze on my hand my stepmother gathered up the bowl and her things and left, closing the door quietly behind her. Once she was gone, I tried to relax my aching back and shoulders. Apparently I had slept awkwardly the night before and now my whole torso seemed to be suffering.

Even with the cool towel on my head I still felt extremely hot. Lifting my legs I kicked the blankets off me and when I did so I noticed for the first time that I was still in my dirty working gown. Leaning my head back on my many pillows, I decided to ask the next person who came in to help me into a night shift. Perhaps then I could cool down more efficiently.

Before I drifted off into sleep, I thought I heard the tell tale sound of a panel running on mechanical hinges. But I was too tired to open my eyes to see if I was right. Only when I could smell candle wax and fine liquor did I realize that Erik was in the room with me. I wanted to try and wake myself up but found that I could not and sleep wrapped its azure wings about me.

I don't know how long he had been there or what he had done in my room while I had slept. The only thing I could remember about his presence was the soft hush of the cloth being drawn off my forehead and replaced by an even colder one. Then all memories stopped.

Only when a light rapping on my door startled me out of my deep slumber did I open my eyes. Of course by that time Erik must have long since left, for not even his normal scent reached me.

By the time I had finally managed to somewhat prop myself up to a sitting position Sophie was perched on the chair next to my bed. She grinned at me and wrapped her rather large and bulky shawl about her shoulders.

"Hullo Lizzy," she said sweetly.

I smiled in response, completely unable to talk now that my throat was so dry. Noting my distress at this she rather clumsily put a small pewter cup of water on my lips. The water was crisp and cold as it ran over my parched lips and mouth. Gulping gratefully, I only stopped my ravenous attack on the cup when every last drop was gone.

Sophie placed the cup behind her with one hand while the other remained tucked in her shawl. "I am glad you can drink Lizzy. You were having trouble last night."

I sighed lightly. "Yes . . . " I stopped however when I saw her shoulder give a leap. Pausing I leaned closer to her. Only when the small lump squirmed some more did I realize that I wasn't seeing things.

"Sophie? Is your shawl mewing?" I asked looking up at her then down at the bouncing lump.

Grinning sheepishly Sophie quietly pulled out the smallest kitten I had ever seen. It was slightly dirty but its little green and blue eyes shined brightly up at me. Meowing happily at its new freedom, the kitten leapt up on the bed and clawed playfully at my feet.

Laughing brought on another fit of coughing. "Where on earth did you find her?" I asked Sophie when I was finally able to speak.

Sophie plucked at the kitten's white tail. "She was outside in the stable yard. She just looked so hungry and alone out there that I brought her in." Sophie looked up at me for a moment before continuing. "I know you miss our greyhounds so I thought that she might be a good companion for you. Especially now that you are sick."

For a moment I was speechless. I gazed down at the white kitten that was rubbing its self lovingly against my arm, happy to be somewhere warm and safe for a change. "Sophie . . . " I began then gave up and reached over to hug her.

She leaned into my arms and squeezed me back. "I'm so glad you are all right Lizzy . . . I don't know what I would have done if something had happened to you."

A small tear ran down my cheek and I pulled back from her. "Thank you so much Sophie. I'm just sorry that I won't be there tonight to cheer as you steal the show." I replied wiping my face with my sleeve.

Suddenly her smile dropped considerably. "Oh . . . yes . . . I hope that goes well." Her hand stopped moving down the kittens little back and it mewed at the loss.

I leaned back and looked her over. "Do you not want to sing tonight Sophie?"

She looked confused at my question her blue eyes clouding slightly. "I do . . . I'm just nervous, I haven't seen him or had a lesson for weeks. Monsieur Reyer says that I will do fine, but I'm just jittery that's all."

"I see." I replied and picked up the whining kitten in my arms. It hushed immediately, then purred as it settled in my grasp. "Surely you have several more hours till the show. Just practice your . . . " But Sophie interrupted me.

"Oh no Lizzy! It's less then an hour till the show begins." She said and dropped the shawl from her shoulders. Underneath it was the sari like dress that her character would wear for her first scene.

I took in a ragged breath. "Oh . . . I see . . . "

"All that is left for me to do is to put on the makeup . . . Oh Lizzy! I'm so worried! I've never done anything like this before. What if I mess up?" She wailed.

For the first time all day I smiled genuinely. Picking her chin up with my finger, I tilted her head to mine. "You won't Sophie. You have so much talent and I know that you will do perfectly. You just have to believe in yourself."

She nodded at me then tensed when the clock outside chimed the half hour. "Oh my goodness! Thank you, Lizzy, I will try." She said as she got to her feet.

"You will be just fine," I said as comfortingly as I could with my hoarse voice, but it seemed to settle her.

Tossing her arms about me for a final hug, she hurriedly left the room. Once the door had slammed behind her I looked down at the small cat in my arms. It raised its little white head and seemed to grin up at me, calling gently.

"Well, cat, I suppose it is just you and me for now. Oh, I hope she does well . . . " I said placing the tiny thing on my bed. "I just hope Erik will be pleased, and maybe she will be able to help the opera." I sighed. "God I hope so . . . "

As if she sensed my distress, the kitten butted her head against my hand. Smiling, I rewarded her kindness with a pat on the head. "What should I call you?" I asked her as she romped about my feet and leapt into my arms every few seconds. "You certainly are an active one." I laughed as she scampered off the bed and onto the floor.

"How about Mittens?" I asked the little fur ball when she pounced back on the bed after her inspection of my room. She glanced up at me and mewed harshly. "Well why on earth not? It beats cat doesn't it?" I replied taking her in my hands once more. She licked at my nose. "Fine, fine I won't call you Mittens unless you're being naughty. How does Moppet sound?"

The little kitten seemed to smile up at me when she meowed once more, this time a much happier sound. "Well then, Moppet, it's settled." I said to her rubbing her pink nose with mine. She purred lightly and placed her paw on my cheek.

Thus, began one of the longest nights of my whole life. Luckily I had Moppet to keep me company as I tried to settle myself in, but worry more often then not would be apart of both my waking hours and my sleeping ones. Only when the roar of applause reached my little room did I finally fall into a pleasant sleep.

It must have been much later in the night when Moppet's small hisses woke me. The small kitten was perched on my shoulder and spitting at some unseen figure in the darkness. Sitting up on my elbow I looked though sleep hazed eyes to where she was directing her attacks.

"Is this your protection from night walkers?" A low melodic voice asked sarcastically. I began to sit up more on my bed when Erik's shadowy figure came over to the chair by me. His mask gleamed in the darkness but the rest of him was cloaked by the dark.

Once she realized that he wasn't intimidated by her little show, Moppet nestled near my stomach nuzzling her head into me. Only when I was too late to edge away did I notice Erik's un gloved hand reaching for her. I gasped slightly. Cupping Moppet gently in his hands he pulled her to him. Her light purrs came to me a few seconds later and I was able to relax slightly.

"She's so tiny." I heard him say, almost wonderingly. Then all was quiet aside from my still harsh and ragged breaths and Moppet's purrs. The sound of a match being struck started me considerably.

Suddenly I could see Erik quiet clearly and his turbulent gaze was resting on me. "Are you feeling better?" He asked lighting a nearby candle then shaking the match to douse it. Moppet was curled comfortably in his lap peering up at me.

"I . . . I suppose." I replied softly. "How did the opera go tonight?"

He paused for a moment, studying my face before he answered. "It went remarkably well. Your stepsister did very well as I knew she would."

I nodded and turned away from his rather powerful gaze. "And . . . and is the Gala still . . . "

"The Gala and all the parties ended hours ago. It's about four in the morning." He replied tartly to me.

I was still trying to work out how so much time could have passed without me even having the slightest idea when I happened to glance up. Erik's hand was reaching for me. Gasping I pulled back welling up my eyes.

"Please . . . don't . . . don't hit me." I stammered. Nothing touched me. I slowly opened my eyes.

Erik had dropped his hand and wasn't looking at me anymore. It was the first time I had really looked at him all night, perhaps even for our entire acquaintance. For the first time he wasn't wearing his cloak or any of his other dark clothing. Instead he was just in an open ruffled shirt with jet black trousers. His ebony hair was tussled slightly as if he had been running his fingers though it all night. He looked like . . . well a man.

There was nothing mysterious about him now, nothing that was terribly out of the ordinary aside from the mask. For once I was seeing a side of him that I could safely say no one had seen in over four years. It was the same Erik that I had seen in his home a few weeks ago. An Erik that was irrevocably human.

"I'm sorry . . . I don't know . . . " I began but he cut me off.

"No . . . don't bother. I don't know why I hit you . . . " He looked back at me again. His eyes were the deepest blue that I had ever seen and I suddenly felt my heart racing slightly. But it might have just been the effect of the fever.

"I didn't even realize that I had done it until you stumbled. I've never hit a woman before . . . " He trailed off, lost in thought.

"Was it you who were in here earlier?" I asked softly. He nodded at me.

"Your fever hasn't gone down yet I assume. It will take you some days to be back on your feet I'm afraid. But for tonight it saved you. Cabartte was looking for you." He said his eyes gauging my expression.

I didn't answer him. Closing my eyes, I silently thanked whatever higher power was out there that I had been ill tonight.

Erik sat silently by my side, gently stroking Moppet who purred happily. _Why was he here? And why all the attention? _

"Do you just feel guilty for hitting me? Is that why you're here?" I asked lowering my head from his vision. I could feel his eyes on me and a slight spike in his temper shimmering on the air. But then it went down suddenly.

"I don't know. Perhaps I still require your services. You've become quite useful to me, my dear." He replied placing Moppet back on the bed with me. She hopped up into my arms once more purring at our reunion. I looked up at his retreating back.

"Get some rest, I cannot have you laid up forever you know." He turned back to me suddenly. "Thank you for not talking her out of it. I think you helped her more then you know."

With a small groan the wall to my bedroom slid inward and a long dark tunnel came into view. "I'll be here in the morning with something that I think will help you get back on your feet."

And with that he was gone.

I sat on the bed clutching Moppet to me slightly. My heart was still beating quite irregularly and for some reason I didn't want him to leave. "What's wrong with me Moppet?" I asked the little cat in my arms. "I said that to get him to leave didn't I?"

_Didn't I?_


	28. Healing

**Hello all. Sorry for the horrible delay in this chapter! Between fixing our crappy internet service and trying to get another service...Guh...**

**Thanks once again for the reviews and to CelticHeart for editing.**

**Chapter 27**

_I need to wake up. There are things to do . . . I need to finish cleaning the stage for the performance. I wonder if Sophie will be all right . . . I need to get up . . . come on Lizzy . . . wake up._

Groaning slightly, I shifted to my other side, pulling my heavy comforter with me. I coughed as I sank deeper into the warm bed. There was a deep sigh from across the room but I was too weary to open my eyes. I fluttered my eyelids slightly but quickly gave up and settled myself back into dreams.

"_I'm sorry . . . I've never hit a woman before . . . " _

I lifted my head slightly, opening my eyes to stare at my deep brown and gold flecked wall. Hearing someone quietly clearing their throat, I leaned back on my elbow as I tilted my head as gently as I could to the left. At first my vision was slightly blurred and dim, but as I continued to blink things cleared. I gasped softly when I saw him.

His lean frame was stretched out on a simple wooden chair that Sophie and my stepmother had brought in yesterday when they had visited. He looked slightly less disgruntled than he had last night; his glossy chestnut hair was combed back and his cravat was once more tied about his shirt neck. Yet he was also more relaxed then I had ever known him to be.

In his lap was a long train of sheet music and a pen rested lovingly in his left hand. _He was composing. _

Trying not to make a sound I shifted my weight up on the bed so I could observe him a bit better. Every once in a while his head would move gracefully from side to side, as if swaying to a tune that only he could hear. His fingers would grip the pen tightly as it moved fluidly over the yellowed paper. A small hum escaped his slightly raised lips when he pulled his hand back, examining his work. His shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh as his smile grew rueful.

"Weren't you ever taught, Miss Brett, that it is bad manners to stare?"

His low voice snapped me out of my stupor. For a moment I was at a total loss of words and could do nothing more than meet his intense blue gaze. He narrowed his eyes and chuckled at me.

"Speechless? This is a change."

"What are you working on?" I asked feeling more stupid by the moment. I rubbed my flushed cheeks, trying to erase the unwanted red color.

His smile dropped and his eyes became a mix of emotions and color. He looked down at the papers in his hands before answering.

"Something I should have destroyed long ago." And with that he tossed the sheets down. I couldn't help but gasp as wing after wing of paper that had only moments before been so completely loved on was allowed to fall haphazardly to the floor.

My eyes rested on a few sheets that had landed near me. There were just notes, no lyrics. It was a simplistic tune, almost rudimentary in its childishness. But from what I could gather of the changes in handwriting, the passage of time as the strokes went from an uneven scrawl to a strong and elegant hand, there was much more to this piece than he had let on.

"Why?" I asked, my voice soft and breathy. I looked up at him, trying to study his face for clues. His blue eyes bored into my green and his jaw tensed only for an instant before he turned away.

"The tune often changes . . . the piece is . . . complicated . . . too complicated," he stated firmly, letting me know that the subject was closed.

Reaching down, he picked up a bottle from the floor, then rose and walked over to me. Once he was by my side he knelt so that we were eye level. I swallowed heavily and tried to focus all my attention on the bottle that was clutched in his hand. But that didn't stop my heart from pounding furiously in my ears when he placed his hand behind my neck, tilting my head toward him.

With his other free hand he quickly uncorked the golden colored bottle and moved it to my lips. When I instinctively shut my mouth, he tapped the bottle lightly on my bottom lip, moving my head back, further into his hand.

He narrowed his eyes and put more pressure on my neck making me arch my back slightly. For a moment his eyes rested on me and the bottle fell below my lips. The deep blue of his gaze made the pounding in my ears increase tenfold and unwittingly I parted my lips slightly.

I don't know how long he stared at me, a look of both cold calculation and something darker flitting about his eyes, but once my lips moved apart he seized his chance.

I tried not to retch as a bitter nutty liquid filled my mouth. I arched upward even more and his hand held me steadily as I did so.

"Swallow." His rich voice ordered. I did as I was told, but the slimy and thick medicine clung to my throat, and it took a great deal of effort to swallow. Once I was successful, Erik poured more of it in my mouth.

Only when I had drained the bottle did he remove it, still keeping his hand behind my head. Reaching over to his side, he placed the now empty golden bottle beside him.

I allowed my head to loll back slightly in his powerful grip. A strange feeling was slowly washing over me. My breathing became more steady and relaxed and it was difficult to keep my eyes open.

"What . . . what was that?" I whispered as my eyes shut completely. I felt his hand pulling away from me as my pillow once more engulfed my head.

"Something that will help you to relax and hopefully let you sleep long enough to bring down that fever."

A warm hand rested heavily on my throbbing temple for a moment. Then I heard Erik's boots snapping lightly on the wood floor as he stood. Once more I was too weary to pull my eyes open, but I could feel his gaze on my face.

Then the footsteps faded away as a low metallic scraping filled my ears. The room was silent once more. I fought for as long as I could against the effects of the drug but it was to no avail, soon I was once more drifting into a dreamless slumber.

Sophie had done remarkably well. She was now fawned over as much as Carlotta, which did not please her ladyship at all. Through all the attention and glory, Sophie had grown up, almost overnight. Although she was now a young woman who hadn't quite forgotten how to laugh and play, she had proved to both the critics and herself that she could rise to an occasion. And it was a fair shock to all of us.

"Oh Lizzy! It was so wonderful! At first everyone was silent then . . . it was a different kind of quiet . . . you know like the kind where they're in awe. I loved it, Lizzy, the roar of the crowd, the feeling of weightlessness . . . of being someone who in that precise moment in time, could shine brighter then any star in the sky ever could."

Sophie was on one of her daily visits to the "sick chamber" as she called it. I was sitting up in bed, propped up on many pillows and being spoon-fed another thick and hearty soup by my stepmother. It had been about a week since I had fallen so close to death's door and Erik had given me that nasty drought for my fever. But I was still terribly weak, hardly able to stand for more then a few moments before needing to clutch onto someone or something.

Yet I was determined to get well and out of bed as soon as I possibly could. There was nothing that I hated more than feeling useless.

"But how is your voice? Does it feel tired or strained at all?" I asked once I swallowed the final spoonful of carrots and beef.

"It feels great! Well it does now. After the show I could hardly talk!" She replied cheerfully and grinned at me.

I smiled weakly. This was what I had been worried about. If Sophie continued to abuse her voice, then in time there would be no sweet tones to share.

"Are you still singing?" I asked her as my stepmother stood and picked up the tray that held my food.

She nodded at me. My stepmother rolled her eyes at the two of us. She had long since gotten used to the fact that we were up to something and had given up asking. I just hoped I could tell her someday what exactly had happened in the Opera Populaire before and after we had darkened its doorway.

"Thank you," I called to her retreating back. Pausing before she shut the door, she smiled at me. Once her footsteps had died away, Sophie turned to me.

"I had a lesson last night!" she whispered excitedly. I smiled at her exuberant face.

"I know. How did it go with him?" I asked her, smoothing a quilt near me.

"You knew? How did you . . . "

"Never you mind. Now are you working on the next opera or something else?" I cut her off, winking lightly.

Giggling Sophie shook her head at me. "He said he wants to expand my horizons before we start on the next pieces."

I shook my head knowingly. Erik had wanted to begin immediately on the new music for the opera, but I had managed to shake him off.

"_She doesn't need to put that much strain on her voice! You can start the new music anytime. We have until spring, just go easy on her for at least a month, Erik."_

"_That's absurd! As if you would know about the strains a voice can handle!"_

We had raged on the topic for a period of three days. Every evening was filled with shouts as our stubborn temperaments clashed again and again. Finally he had relented but only on the agreement that this "hiatus" would only last a week.

Erik had taken to coming into my room soon after the opera house had settled down for the night. As my fever dropped I began to sleep on a more regular basis and his visits now included talks or easy silences where he would compose and I would read.

Last night when he had gone to tutor Sophie, I found myself missing him. I suppose I had grown found of seeing him, though every time he came it was only to see that I was getting along and would soon be back on my feet.

During the days that I spent alone while the others were working, I would read for hours and hours. Often when my novels became dull or I just couldn't take one more climatic moment, I would limp over to my bookshelf and pull out a tattered old book.

The cover was a deep grey and green and the spine had the annoying habit of falling off at the most inopportune moments, but the stories that rested inside were priceless. With Moppet curled contentedly in my lap I would reread tales that had never gotten old to me. And as I did so I was suddenly transported home. I was once more on my father's lap, his strong arms about me, his low rumbling voice echoing in my ear.

"The old book" was one of the few memories that I had of him or my brothers now. And when I was done reading aloud the tale of "King Midas" or "The Gloops" to a now sleeping Moppet I would tenderly close the old cover and clutch it to me, a small grin on my face, lost in memories.

It was late now, the gongs of the grandfather clock outside my room had long since chimed the devil's hour of twelve. Moppet was curled up by my feet, her small white body nestled into mine. I however was far away when the telltale wall slid back.

In my hands was that tattered old book, the engraved illustrations running under my fingertips.

"_Where is she? Where is my Lizzy? My little wild child?" I was hiding under the stairs by the kitchen, my papa had just come home. It was Christmas time and everyone was here. The candles on our tree lit up the whole room, a light tinkling from the piano echoed through the whole house. And my father was swinging me up in his arms . . . _

"Elizabeth?" A low and musical voice called close to my ear.

I jumped the book falling out of my hands. Moppet mewed lightly and dashed over for a quick pet from Erik. I gazed down at my empty hands. _You'll never be able to hold him . . . you'll never be able to talk to him ever again . . . _

I drew in a shaky breath, a small tear etching its way down my face. _Papa . . . _

I buried my face in my hands then ran my palms down to my mouth. _He wouldn't want you to cry . . . be brave . . . for him._

"Elizabeth? Lizzy?" The voice called again.

I snapped my head over to him. Erik's expressive eyes met mine, his hand was reaching out to me, but stopped when he caught sight of my face. I stared at him for a moment.

"What did you call me?" I asked softly. Erik pulled back from me as if I had struck him, his eyes narrowed slightly and he dropped Moppet unceremoniously on the ground. He shook his head at me and turned away.

I looked back at the book that was resting so quietly on my bed. "My father was the first to call me that you know . . . " I said quietly fingering the book once more. I saw Erik turn toward me out of the corner of my eye.

"You said it just like he did." I went on, looking up at Erik. The side of his face that was visible wasn't stern or angry anymore. "No one who knows me has ever called me Elizabeth. Elizabeth was my mother. I don't think Papa could bear to hear that name after she died, so he just called me Lizzy."

His cloak swished lightly over the ground as he turned away once more. His gloved hands clenched and unclenched slightly, and he turned the side of his face with the cold mask toward me. I couldn't read his emotions any longer so I looked away.

"You were right . . . " He said after a slight pause, as if the words were hard for him to form. "Her voice was exhausted."

I nodded but didn't look at him. Moppet hopped up next to me and her little golden eyes traveled from the two of us as we passed through another awkward silence.

"I think I'll be well enough to work next week . . . " I trailed off. Now it was his turn to nod. I watched as he made to move to the hidden panel once more, once he was there however he turned to me.

"Is it . . . " He grimaced and narrowed his eyes. "Is it all right . . . if I . . . " He stopped once more and glared at me. I smiled back and his brows lowered in suspicion at me.

"Would you call me Lizzy?" I asked, knowing somehow that was what he was trying to get out.

He looked taken aback for a moment. Then he clenched his jaw and nodded before flipping the switch and disappearing into his underground world.


	29. Unwanted Questions

**Sorry for the delay in this chapter everyone! Thank you for all the wonderful reviews and a special thanks to CelticHeart for editing once more.**

**Chapter 28**

"Elizabeth! Do you think you could possibly hobble over to the other side of the stage? Slick floors and already clumsy ballerinas don't mix, I'm afraid." Madame Giry's slightly annoyed voice caused me to jump slightly and the mop in my hands clattered noisily to the floor.

Wincing at my clumsiness I knelt down to pick up the mop and nodded to Madame Giry's slightly amused face. Hoisting both the pail of steaming water and mop, I slowly and awkwardly moved to the left of the stage.

It was only Monday and already I was bumbling everything.

Renee and the others had done their best to clean things while I was sick but they somehow always managed to leave corners and the harder to reach spots undone. The laundry was weeks behind and I could only do a few minutes of work before clutching at my sides in pain. After nearly taking a nasty stumble down one of the backstage stairways, I had restricted myself to the stage and the washroom.

I slowly limped over to one of the dirtier corners of the stage. Wringing the mop of extra water and suds I began to scrub on the hard wood, watching the grime melt away as the hot liquid splashed over it.

Once that was clean, I moved to another spot and repeated the process until the mahogany and oak floors were gleaming. A slight crick was starting in my upper spine and I arched my back slightly to ease it. The distant sound of Madame Giry's cane beating out the tempo to her students allowed me to fall into a steady rhythm. I didn't even notice when two shadows fell over me.

"Well, well! The young maid is back, I see."

I gasped and moved faster then I had in over a week, trying to put a comfortable distance between Cabartte and myself. I felt my throat clinch nervously and my eyes ran from my Aunt Maria to his as they gauged my reaction.

Cabartte's grey eyes gleamed unnaturally and a small reptilian grin spread across his face. "Come here, my dear," he said as I took another step back.

"Go to your betters when you're called, Eliza!" my aunt shrieked, a sickening smile plastered across her face.

I took another step backwards shaking my head slightly. _There was no way I was going to allow myself to fall under their power. _

Cabartte's face slackened slightly but his eyes still held their odd shine. "What was that? Speak up, my girl." He murmured, his voice low and honeyed.

"No Monsieur." I managed to finally get out. I clutched the mop tight to my chest as I waited for his anger to wash over me.

Aunt Maria looked furious, her many chins quivering in her rage, but Cabartte merely took a step toward me. I edged backward once more and to my utter dismay, slammed against a wall. Pressing myself tight against it I closed my eyes as I felt his body heat near my neck.

Hard fingers closed about my windpipe and I whimpered softly as he slowly applied pressure. Wearily I opened my eyes, only to see his jeering face inches from mine.

"My _darling _child. Did you just say no?" His voice was pure venom now but I refused to give into his game. I nodded my assent as much as my restrained neck would allow me. Shutting my eyes tight again I heard Aunt Maria's hiss of anger next to me.

"Why you ungrateful little brute," she whispered through her clinched teeth at me. I felt her long nails dig into my right arm and I cried out slightly only to have Cabartte increase his grip on my neck, silencing me.

"Tell me, my girl," Cabartte muttered placing his face close to mine. I shuddered with disgust when he paused to bury his nose in my neck, inhaling my scent harshly. "Tell me . . . "

I opened my eyes long enough to see Aunt Maria frown. I jumped and shut my eyes in pain as she drew blood on my arm. But my sudden movement was enough to send Cabartte out of his stupor.

Slowly he released my neck and gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Why was that little chit in the alto role last Saturday night?"

When I said nothing, he shook me fiercely. "_Why? _You know something about it don't you? Is it that man who has DePerix under his thumb? I'll find out soon enough my dear, so why don't you just make the process easier for me? I can assure you there will be some added bonus for you . . . " He trailed off his hand snaking down to my thigh.

But with that one move he had relaxed his hold on me, as had Aunt Maria. Sensing that this might be my only chance to escape their clutches I jerked out of his arms, throwing myself away from both of them.

Cabartte grasped for me in vain as I twisted my arm out of his hold. "I know nothing of it, Monsieur Cabartte. You forget . . . I was ill that night." I replied as I moved far away from their reaching hands.

"Don't be coy Eliza!" Aunt Maria shouted thrusting her large body over to mine. "You know this . . . _Phantom._"

Shaking my head I turned on my heel and dashed back over to the lit part of the stage, only to stumble when the hem of my blue dress was grabbed by Cabartte.

Falling heavily to the floor I cried out in both pain and shock as he threw himself on me. With one move he had me pinned beneath him. "There, my girl! Now, isn't this nice? Keep still!" He groaned as I tried to kick him off. "Oh, no you don't. Not this time, my girl."

Suddenly the beating of the cane stopped. It had been pounding away the entire time I had been accosted in the shadows but now Cabartte had unwisely moved to a more populated area of the stage.

"_Get off of her!" _Madame Giry's enraged voice almost brought tears of relief to my eyes.

Cabartte smirked up at her. "And who are you to tell me what to do, Madame? I am one of the head patrons of this pathetic little opera and this girl has stolen something that is mine. I am merely trying to recover it from her."

Madame Giry was unmoved. "Stolen something has she? Then why may I ask are you pinning her down in such an unseemly manner? And I really doubt you would tell her _isn't this nice? _if she had taken something of yours."

Cabartte's face hardened in rage at the ballet teacher standing so unwaveringly in front of him. Then a great mass of voices drifted over to us. I looked up hopefully as DePerix and several other men walked slowly out of the main hall, chatting animatedly to one another.

With a small curse Cabartte shoved me away, causing me to skid painfully over the wood. Hissing and groaning as my body twisted, I watched as he stood and smoothed his hair down.

Then his watery, grey eyes flashed over to Madame Giry and me. "Not a word," he whispered and with that he took Aunt Maria's arm in his and strode over to the gentlemen by the door.

"_Elizabeth!_" Madame Giry muttered under her breath as she knelt by me. She dropped her heavy cane uselessly on the ground and wrapped an arm about my shoulders.

"My dear, dear child. Can you stand?" Her voice sounded like it had the night Erik had hit me. Her tone was soft and kind, so unlike her usual brisk manner of talking. Nodding I let her help me to my feet.

"I think I'll be all right now." I said after a few unsteady moments of balancing precariously. She narrowed her eyes at me and I took a few steps around her to prove my ability to get about.

"Why didn't you yell for help?" She questioned me as I went to collect my mop and bucket.

I turned back to her. "He had my neck." I replied running my fingers over the new welts. Her steel eyes flashed with anger and she picked up her cane and slammed it down with more fury then ever.

"How dare they! The pair of them . . . always sneaking about . . . " She muttered to me as we walked over to the shadowy part of the stage.

"They were asking me about Sophie . . . "I said softly and Madame Giry looked at me uneasily.

"Did they ask about . . . him?" Her voice was so low I had to strain my ears to pick up what she said. I shook my head and she seemed immensely relieved.

"But they do have some idea that there is someone besides DePerix who is running things." I said soberly as I collected my mop. She had looked so distraught when she had been asking about Erik that I thought it best to leave out Aunt Maria's comment about the Phantom for the time being.

Madame Giry and I walked back over to where her younger pupils were stretching on the stage and chattering. A few of the girls silenced immediately, Madeline was one of them. Her long brown hair was tied neatly back from her face, one leg arched over a bar. She looked every bit like the perfect ballerina. I smiled softly at her and she grinned back.

"Girls take a five minute break. I'm going to help Elizabeth down to the kitchens," she called. "No, Madeline, you stay here with the others." She added as my stepsister began to walk over to us.

Madeline raised her eyebrows and looked over to me, but I nodded at her to stay. Looking slightly taken aback she turned to the other girls. I gazed after her for a moment but Madame Giry brought me back to the present.

"Come on Elizabeth, we need to get you down to the kitchens. That bruise is looking fierce." Her voice had returned to its usual briskness and I didn't dare disobey.

The walk, down the rows of chairs then down two flights of steep stairs, was painful and long and I had to stop often to catch my breath. But Madame Giry was patient and stood beside me as I stopped, leaning on the wall for extra support.

When we finally arrived at the kitchen's large doors, I felt horrible and wanted nothing more then to go lie down on my soft bed. Shouldering open the heavy mahogany Madame Giry led me slowly in.

To my surprise the normally bustling kitchen was empty. I looked about for a moment before turning to Madame Giry who was putting my bucket down by the fireplace.

"Where are they?" I asked softly to her back.

"They went out to buy some supplies for the opera house." She stated simply and I turned to look out at the sky that was visible from the washroom's open door. It was breathtaking to see after being locked up in a deary room for over a week.

The sky was a robin's egg blue and a few lazy clouds passed through the chilly December air. I smiled slightly at the clear day wishing that I didn't have any obligations to this opera house so I could go and take a pleasant stroll through the town.

"They should be back later this evening." Madame Giry said as she came over to where I was standing. I looked over at her and she smiled at me.

"Do try and take care of that bruise Elizabeth dear." She said as walked toward the doors. I nodded at her and she bowed her head to me before pulling open one of the heavy doors.

"Thank you, Madame Giry." I called to her retreating back before the door shut and I was alone in the slightly chilled kitchens.

Tossing my mop over by the bucket I pulled out one of the high stools by the counter. Perching myself atop it I buried my head in my hands and hissed when my fingers hit the fresh bruises. I felt tears welling up behind my eyes. _Why has this new life taken such a horrible turn? _

"You need to put something hot on that," a now familiar voice said by my right ear. I hardly even jumped.

Taking my head out of my hands I turned and looked at the man who had been the source of today's mishap. His blue and gold eyes were next to mine their depths expressing something like pity. Except that such a simple human feeling seemed to be lost in his aura and appearance. Today he was indeed the "Phantom" so many feared.

I turned away from him, a sudden feeling of anger and hurt washing over me. _If this was supposed to be the infamous "Opera Ghost" then why hadn't he helped me?_ _It was his fault that Sophie had been in that role, it was his fault I was suspected in having a hand in it. _

I stared resolutely out the window in front of me, hardly taking any notice of him. Suddenly, a scalding piece of cloth was placed on my pulsing neck. Crying out slightly, I wrenched myself away from both him and the offending rag.

He narrowed his eyes. "If you don't stop the swelling now, it will only get worse." He stated calmly as I edged myself by the cabinets.

He began to come toward me, again his steps slow and deliberate. "Why didn't you help me?" I snapped at him as his body came close enough to mine that I could feel heat radiating off him. He blinked and looked down at me, shocked.

"What?" He asked simply as he gently applied the hot cloth to my neck, dabbing at the spots that were already turning a deep blue.

"Why . . . ow! . . . why didn't you help me? You must have been right there, how else would you have known about me so soon." I asked again in a cool voice.

"How would it have looked if I had jumped out at them Lizzy? Use your head. It would have confirmed everything that they had assumed." He replied softly and lifted one of his gloved hands to tilt my head the other way so he could tend to that side as well.

I moved out of his grasp and for once he made no effort to pull me back to him.

"So you are just worried about yourself, is that it?" I ground out through my teeth. Erik turned away from me so that I could only see his neutral white mask.

"Don't you dare!" I snapped at him and grabbing his shoulder, turned him to me. For a moment his face tensed and he looked like he had when he had hit me. It passed suddenly. He lowered his head and cast his eyes down clenching his jaw.

I let out several exasperated breaths. "Erik . . . why . . . why are you . . . "

"Do you have any idea what it feels like to be hunted? Do you have any idea what it feels like to be chased in your own home? To have your life threatened because someone that you thought loved you . . . betrayed you? No, my dear Lizzy, I doubt you have any idea what that feels like."

He looked up at me, a mixture of pure rage and agony in his haunted eyes. I gasped and leaned back into the wall despite myself.

"And I won't let it happen to me again." He whispered raising a hand and slamming it into the wall next to my shoulder. We were silent for a long time, the cloth now lying forgotten on the ground.

"Would you have stopped them if it had gotten worse?" I asked softly. He looked up at me, his blue eyes still turbulent.

"I...I don't know." He stated and lowered his head again. I gulped despite myself and nodded at him.

"I see. If it . . . if it had been Christine . . . would you have stopped them?" I asked softly. He looked up at me as if to say _"You already know the answer so why ask?"_ but I lowered my head imploringly.

"Yes." He stated coolly, keeping his eyes on my face. I nodded at him and bit my lip slightly.

He grasped my ravaged arm gently after a few moments, lifting it to see the still bleeding cuts. "Come over here . . . " He said as he pulled me off the wall slowly. I allowed him to sit me down on the stool once more and he sat in the one next to me soaking another rag in hot water, this time sprinkling some salt over it before he placed it on my cuts.

Groaning at the sudden pain, I turned my head away from him. His black gloved hands moved tenderly over my arm as he rubbed every inch of abraded flesh. When at last he was done, he sat the rag down on the counter and rose.

"Why didn't you tell them about me?" He asked softly as he wet another rag and applied it once more to my injured neck, standing slightly behind me.

"Because I think that you are trying to help the opera." I turned and looked up at him. "And I think I've started to trust you now. Wasn't that part of your plan for me?"

He looked slightly taken aback but smirked after a few moments. "You were never part of the plan Miss Brett."

I smiled at him and his smirk vanished. "I think you'll be fine enough to do some work now," he stated, moving away from me as if I had said something particularly rude. I nodded and stood also, going around the opposite end of the counter to the washroom.

I paused at the door just in time to see him start to go through the mirror by the doors. "I knew it." I called to him and he paused and looked at me, the white of his mask gleaming in the torch light in the hidden corridor.

"Knew what?" He asked turning to me.

"That you were had something back there. How long have you been watching us?" I replied chucking my head slightly at him.

"Longer than you know," he said obtusely, and he began to step in the mirror once more, I called out to him again.

"Is there anything that you need done?" I asked. He shook his head at me and the mirror slid shut behind his furling cape edge.


	30. Complications

**A/N: Thanks once more for all the reviews! Your support of this story really means the world to me. :Hugs: Another big thanks to CelticHeart as well for another stupendus editing job!**

**Chapter 29**

The next few weeks past uneventfully as winter set in. The once busy walkway and street outside of the Opera's doors were now almost deserted. A covering of snow and sleet had made roads nearly impossible to walk on. Even the topmost gilded statues that rested on the roof were made a translucent pearly white under the nightly snowflake cascade.

But under all the gloom of the dark steel colored skies and the brisk chilly winds, cheerfulness radiated everywhere as Christmas drew near.

My slow recovery continued as days passed since my dreadful encounter with Cabartte and Aunt Maria. My steps grew stronger as I forced myself to do my normal jobs again. I worked late into the nights washing clothes and scrubbing down the stairs but I didn't mind. If there was one thing that drove me insane during my week long illness was that I had been rendered useless to everyone.

I despised being looked after like a small child and hearing the bustle of work outside my door while I lay comfortable and warm in my room. My temper had gotten shorter and shorter as the days passed and finally my stepmother relented and allowed me to go back to work.

Pushing a bucket and mop across the tiled main staircase, I felt that I had finally recovered; I was able to work and get the job done properly. As I scrubbed at the puddles of water that had come in as snow on the undersides of peoples' shoes I wondered once more where Aloysia had gone.

Though she never helped me much to begin with, she at least used to show up. But she had stopped doing even that. Short tempered and disgruntled, I pushed the mop with more vigor then I had intended to and several droplets of water flew across the way.

"Why don't you watch what you are doing, you clumsy oaf!" a shrill Spanish voice called to me. Lifting my head only slightly I met Carlotta's hard gaze.

"Are you listening to me! You! Girl!"

Sighing in exasperation, I straightened to my full height. She poised as if she was the picture of sophistication in a deep burgundy gown that was covered with ermine tails and yellow feathers. I had to bite my lip from laughing at the absurdity of her wardrobe.

"I asked you a _question_, or are you too much of a simpleton to answer me?" she snapped, turning slightly in her bustle dress which clung harshly to her legs. When she stumbled a bit in this new rather tightfitting fashionable gown I couldn't conceal my snort of laughter.

Her eyes narrowed to deep slits in her face and she pursed her lips. "And _what _pray tell is so funny?"

"Is this the new fashion?" I asked trying to keep my face as straight as possible.

Wrinkling her nose at me she curtly responded, "Yes. Though I doubt someone of your..._stature _would have enough money to buy it."

"No, Madame, I have no doubt that I would buy such a dress. After all it looks like one would need lessons on how to walk in it." I replied lightly, examining the slim area for the legs. "It must be quite difficult..."

Sniffing at me, she walked a bit closer. It was obvious that she could barely keep her balance. When she stumbled once more she seemed to think better of accosting me. Pausing and teetering slightly, she peered down her nose at me.

"Cheeky girl. I don't wonder why you haven't moved up from the position of maid like your stepsisters...or indeed attracted anyone. You're quite a plain and awkward looking girl, my dear. Too bad your tongue does nothing to compensate for it." Tossing her train behind her, she began to hobble off.

Glaring after her I tried to calm my bubbling temper. I bit the inside of my lip in rage and harshly put the mop into the bucket wringing it angrily, as if it was the reason for my problems.

"Lizzy?"

"_What?" _I snapped whirling about my chest heaving. Madeline and Sophie took a few steps back from me, their eyes big with uncertainty. Letting out a sigh I turned my back on them after a few moments. When I began to run the mop over the gold and green tiles I heard the soft clicking of boots walking over to me.

"Lizzy? Are you all right?" Sophie's voice asked as she placed her small hand lightly on my back.

"Oh, I'm fine Sophie." I replied angrily, jerking away from her. "Now what do the two of you want? As you can see I'm rather tied up with my chores."

Sophie moved away from me as Madeline answered in a soothing tone. "Mother and Renee want you in the kitchens...we've...we've gotten permission from DePerix to decorate the Opera for Christmas," she said, her voice carrying a worried undertone.

A part of me wanted to apologize to both of them for being so terse and mean tempered but my mouth seemed to have a will of its own.

"Fine." I gritted though my teeth. "Tell her I'll be along in a moment. Now please _let me work_."

Sophie began to say something but I heard Madeline cut her off. "All right Lizzy." As they walked away, leaving me alone once more, I knew I was being an absolute beast to them but at the moment I was too hurt and affronted to care.

Sloshing more water onto the steps I continued my work.

"Testy, aren't we?" a low voice called, a mocking in its tone. I slammed the mop into the bucket. _This is the last thing I need right now._

"You're one to talk Erik," I muttered, catching the tilted bucket with my foot before it spilled.

"What was that my dear? You need to speak up," his voice drifted lazily over next to me, but I was too accustomed to it now that I didn't even turn.

"Who are you to tell me that I have a temper?" I whispered angrily.

"Why on earth are you talking so low? I can barely hear your sultry tones," he called to me as his voice moved from mirror to mirror in the room.

"Don't you think it would look a bit odd for someone to walk in and see me standing here talking to thin air? I'm having enough troubles right now without being considered insane and unstable as well," I snapped.

"Who on earth are you talking to Lizzy?"

I felt my shoulders drop a few inches and for the umpteenth time I slammed my mop into the bucket.

"No one, Renee," I replied turning around to see my stepsister gazing at me with wide eyes.

"Well...mother wants you in the kitchens. Are you sure..."

"All right! I'm coming!" I said cutting her off while trying to ignore the melodic laughter coming from the mirror behind me.

"DePerix has given us permission to really welcome in Christmas this year!" my stepmother told my stepsisters and me when I walked into the kitchens with Renee a few moments later.

"So this means that we can put all these wreaths and holly branches to use!" she continued as I emptied my bucket of soapy water in the sink.

"Renee you and Lizzy will be in charge of all the public parts of the building. Sophie you and your sister can decorate backstage and in here. I want this place to really shine for the holidays." my stepmother ended joyfully.

"But Mama, normally it's just us for the holidays," Renee said coming over to help me wring the excess water out of the mop. "Everyone else goes home to visit family."

My stepmother tutted lightly at Renee, shaking her finger. "Not this year they won't. The managers have decided to put on a Holiday Opera. The whole house will be here for Christmas because we'll be having a performance on Christmas Eve."

Sophie gasped softly and I looked over at her. Her blue eyes were big and her whole body was tense. Narrowing my eyes slightly I turned back to the sink. _Apparently this is a very new idea if even he hasn't heard about it..._

"Now Lizzy take those red and gold bows over there. And Renee you take the garland and wreaths. And off you two go! We need to begin right away so that we'll be ready on time. Oh and girls!" my stepmother called to Renee and me when we were opening the door, "don't forget to clean everything before you put the decorations up."

Assuring her that we would Renee and I set off for the staircase once more.

"I can't believe that DePerix is doing an Opera over the holidays," Renee called down to me as she teetered on the stool to hang bows and garland over the door.

"Oh, yes, you can." I replied from under a mass of tinsel and wreaths. I was still rather short fused from Carlotta's comments but there was something about decorating for Christmas that seemed to soothe my hurt feelings.

"He'll do anything for extra money," I continued, extracting myself from the greenery and climbing a small ladder to place a circular wreath over the main archway.

"Still I wonder what they are going to do. Do you think Sophie will be a lead this time? I don't think I can bear the suspense if she is..." Renee trailed off as she stepped down.

"From the look on her face, I don't think she knew, either," I replied, my mind once more flitting back to Erik. _DePerix must have kept this very quiet indeed if Erik doesn't know yet...I wonder why..._

But Renee's voice snapped me back into reality. "What could the Opera be? It must be something that everyone knows seeing as we've only got one week til Christmas..."

"Whatever it is I'll bet you any amount of money that Carlotta won't let herself be outshone by a fourteen year old this time," I said soberly as I took another wreath from Renee and hung it a few inches lower then the other.

"You mean you haven't heard?"

Renee and I both turned to see Meg Giry standing poised on the topmost step a few inches away. She was dressed in a red and gold skirt that was loose and flowing and her chest was barley covered with a small top. Her belly was revealed for all to see and long chains were about her ankles and wrists.

"What on earth are you supposed to be?" Renee asked, gaping at her bizarre costume.

"I'm a slave. We are re-doing Hannibal. The last time we did this Opera Carlotta walked out and Christine Daae was given the lead role," Meg said, looking pointedly at me.

I tilted my head slightly. "Was this the Opera that happened before Christine's disappearance?"

Meg bit her lip and nodded. "I don't know why he's daring..." But she trailed off shaking her head, bells jingling as she walked into the auditorium.

Renee looked up at me, confusion shining in her brown eyes. "What was that about?"

I stared after Meg for a few moments. "'What does this mean?' would be a better question, I think." I grabbed another festive decoration, but the joy that Christmas had brought had been dampened by this new information.

"What the devil do they think they're doing! This Opera hasn't been done since _she _was here, and with good reason. Now that blasted cow is going to muddle things again!" Erik raged, pacing back and forth in my room, his cape snapping menacingly as he moved.

"Perhaps DePerix thinks that everyone will still remember it. Performing Hannibal will mean less work on everyone's part," I replied, moving one of my candles away from where he was. It was the second time he nearly set himself ablaze and I moved the offending candle closer to where I was mending one of the lead actor's shirts.

"Damn that man! This will be the last time he'll play me for the fool..." he muttered. I looked up at this powerful man who was causing my floorboards to shake as he stomped. His face that wasn't covered perfectly mirrored his white mask. A look of pure malice was in his eyes and he was unconsciously clenching and unclenching his fists.

When he realized that I was observing him, he stopped and stared. Under his blazing eyes, I hastily returned to my task. He stopped pacing for a moment as he watched me. Rolling my shoulders back I tried in vain to keep my cheeks from flushing. Then his elegantly booted feet resumed their march. Letting out a shaky breath, I put a hand up to my throbbing heart. _Pull yourself together Lizzy..._

"He knows what he's doing. He knows perfectly well..." Erik mumbled and I shook my head slightly both in exasperation and in an attempt to clear my head of these strange feelings.

"Erik sit down. You're making me nervous," I said harshly, looking up at him. For a moment he glared at me and the uncovered side of his face hardened even more, then he snarled and grabbed a nearby chair.

"Thank you," I replied cooly as he crossed his arms and continued to glower at me from across the room. "Now if DePerix knew that you would be this upset then why would he have risked it?" I asked him arching my eyebrow slightly.

"My guess..." I continued, cutting him off before he could answer,"is that Cabartte put him up to it. As you know he was rather upset about a 'mere child' getting the lead role in the last Opera. And I assume that this Opera has only one lead and that is the Soprano. We both know that Sophie is not a Soprano." I said returning to my sewing.

"Why would DePerix agree?" He asked softly.

"Because Cabartte's got him under his thumb," I looked up at him, a rather shocked look on my face. "You mean you haven't been keeping an eye on him."

He snorted slightly and stood once more, but this time his pacing was calm and contained. "That my dear Lizzy would be a complete waste of time. All DePerix does is imagine theories that someone is out to get him. He is quite an easy man to work with." Erik replied with a cruel grin.

"Apparently your time might be better spent in his office rather than spying on me," I snapped, still rather annoyed at what he had done to me earlier.

He narrowed his eyes and came over to me so that I had to look up at him to keep eye contact. "But, _you_ my dear, know who I am. You even know where I live."

With one quick movement he slammed his hands down on the armrests of my chair, his blue and gold gaze boring into mine. "_You _are the biggest threat that I have right now."

I leaned as far back into the chair as I could but he didn't pull away from me. "You're not an idiot Lizzy, nor are you likely to be fooled. That is why I keep an eye on you." His breath was warm on my cheeks and once more my heart began pounding, but not from fear. When he began to release his grip it took all my will power for me not to grab him and pull him back; I wanted him even closer to me.

He resumed his pacing, but this time I noticed that his eyes often fell on me when he whirled smartly on his heel. It was the same gaze I always received from him, a look that was both cold and calculating. Once more I bent over my work and this time he didn't say anything further.

After several minutes of nerve-wracking silence, I dropped the shirt into my lap and put my head in my hands. "What are you going to do?" I asked, my voice muffled.

"I suppose you want me to say to hell with it and let them carry on," he replied and I felt his eyes on me once more.

"No. But are you going to use Sophie?" I whispered. There was a very long silence and for a moment I thought that he might have left, but then his low tone reached me.

"Not this time. And as to what I'll do? I suppose I'll just see how far this Cabartte is willing to push me." I heard a slightly sinister note in his response and looked up from my hands.

"What does..." But this time he cut me off.

"It depends." And with a small nod of goodbye to me he was gone through his secret doorway and I was left alone in my room.

"Girls, girls! Elegance! Lift your feet! Aloysia you look like a fish with your mouth open like that!" Madame Giry's snappy voice came over in short barks to Renee and I who were now attempting to decorate the auditorium. However the gilded statues didn't seem to like the bows and garland for each time Renee and I descended our ladders the decorations followed us.

More then once I nearly toppled off the alarmingly tall ladder only to be grabbed harshly by an unseen hand and pulled back to safety.

"If you're the one who's been causing all of our garland to fall Erik..." I muttered angrily after the bow I had been attempting to put up fell once more to the floor.

"I haven't touched anything, Lizzy. Perhaps my Opera House doesn't appreciate your decorations," he snapped back at me from the darkness of the balcony. "Now if you don't mind I'd like to hear just how badly Carlotta will butcher this next song..."

On it went for the next week. Renee and I spent a good four days in the auditorium trying to get the decorations to stick in their respective places while Carlotta screeched notes and Madame Giry's cane and voice echoed over the stage.

All in all it wasn't that bad of a time to be working at the Opera House. Cabartte and Aunt Maria would often come in during the late afternoon to watch the progress of the Opera. But after the day he confronted me, I found ways to avoid Cabartte.

Eventually, Renee and I had to decorate the front of the stage and the back rafters so we had to work directly on the stage. One morning a man ran into the room and handed Meg a tiny slip of paper.

She grinned and thanked the man. Although he nodded politely, he held her hand a second longer then proprietary decreed. Once he had gone, the smile dropped from Meg's face. Reading the note, she paled and took a few steps back. Madame Giry was also watching her daughter and when she noted this odd change she rushed to her.

I couldn't hear what they were saying from where I was on the stage but when Madame Giry was handed the note and she, too, paled as she read it. I felt an odd sense of foreboding.

"What on earth..." I said as Renee called to me from the front of the stage. With a small backwards glance at Meg and her stern mother I walked over to Renee. After she placed a new set of bows and wreaths in my hands, I walked over to where Meg was standing, the note still clutched in her hand.

I placed my hand gently on her shoulder. Her head snapped over to look at me, her steel grey eyes full of worry.

"Meg what..." but she didn't respond. Without a word she thrust the note into my hand and shook her head at me.

For a moment the note rested in my hand and I just stared at it. Then I flipped it over. Gasping slightly, I felt all the decorations fall out of my hands and into the floor. I looked over to Meg who swallowed painfully and shook her head.

"Meg...what does this mean? Why would he..." I looked worriedly about me. It occurred to me then that it was not why this man had so foolishly decided this course of action, but what another man, a man who was ten times as deadly, would do when _he _found out.

_Tomorrow at 2:00 in the afternoon I will drop by the Opera Populaire to see how this new performance is coming. I hope this finds you well, Madame Giry, and I hope that I can soon help the Opera out once more._

_Vicomte Raoul de Chagny_


	31. Escalation

**A/N: Hullo once more everyone. M'kay, I have finally decided how to handle chapters now that school has started once more. Every Friday night I'll compose a new one and then send it off to CelticHeart to be edited. Hopefully I'll have it ready some time early in the next week in a final publishable form. Sorry that it has to be this way :( but I'm afraid it's the best I can think of for now.**

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews and to CelticHeart :)**

**Chapter 30**

**Elizabeth**

I paced about my room after work, not even going down to the kitchens to get dinner. As I walked, my mind raced through all my options, but in the back of my mind I knew he would find out about Raoul's planned visit to the Opera Populaire one way or another. Moaning slightly, I ran my hands over my stomach to help steady my churning insides. _What were we going to do?_

I halted when I passed my bed once more. Throwing myself down in a most unladylike manner, I grabbed a nearby pillow and screamed into its downy feathers. Once I had let out a bit of my pent-up frustration, I flung the offending pillow down on my belly. Pulling my dangling feet up onto the mattress, I stretched out properly.

I had just raised my hands to pull off my now wrinkled working cap when I heard a small groan of wood and metal.

Sitting upright I turned to see Erik making his way into the room. His white mask gleamed in the faint lights of the candles and I gasped at the strangeness of it. But then he swung his whole body out of the two-way wall and his cape distracted me as it closed about him.

For a few moments we just stared at each other, my eyes searching his for any rage or irregular behavior, he giving me the same icy blue stare as always. I pulled my gaze away first and returned to my previous position.

Once I was situated with my arm resting under my cap and my booted feet on the edge of my blanket I turned to look at him once more.

His eyes were now studying the same picture that they always fell on. Shifting my head slightly I caught my father and brothers' hazel gazes. They were frozen in a simple picture when all was right with the world as I knew it, when they were alive.

Pushing aside the painful prick of tears, I looked once more at the powerful and brooding man who was standing a few feet from me. His shoulders were broad and squared and yet he had a slightly underfed look about him. He looked like a man who had witnessed too much before his time, and it had taken a heavy toll on him. But right now he was focused on that picture.

I moved my head back to the center of my pillow my previous worries calling softly from the back of my mind. Trying to ignore them I studied the cracks and abrasions in my ceiling for a few moments. Soon my eyes began to feel heavy and started to slowly close. Just as I was about to give into a carefree sleep, Erik's voice called across the room to me.

"How old were they in this?" His low melodic tones were slightly heavier tonight and I turned over on my side so I could see him better.

"Who? My brothers?" I asked, propping my head on my bent arm. My eyes looked anywhere but the picture, my mind trying to believe that they were still alive and I was just on a winter trip from home.

"So that's who they are. Yes, how old were they?" He asked again, and when he moved his hand to run his finger down the image of the English Channel in the background I was forced to move my gaze back to it.

"They . . . they were six years older than me. I think . . . I think that it was taken when they were twenty-two. It was just before my father married my stepmother . . . before the . . . accident." I replied my voice cracking slightly as a few tears broke through my facade.

Erik turned to me then his eyes swimming with something that I would like to think of as compassion. He nodded and turned back to the picture when I bit my lip and avoided his gaze.

"How did they . . . " He began, but I cut him off.

"There was an explosion at the factory where they worked. They were buried in the rubble . . . " My breathing was coming in little gasps now and I felt my chin wobbling with the effort not to cry.

"We could not even identify them . . . there was nothing left but their clothes . . . " A small, high-pitched whimper came from my mouth and I glared at him, challenging him to laugh at my pitiful state.

But not even the hint of a smile came over his sensual lips. He pulled his eyes away from mine and studied the flickering candles while I composed myself. Once I was sitting up once more, my eyes dried on the hem of my apron did he speak.

"I didn't mean to remind you." He stated and he narrowed his eyes at the candles, a strange look coming over his face. "I just wanted to know who they were . . . and why . . . "

He turned his head sharply to mine his blue gaze taking me in. Then with a low sigh he pulled up the small chair in the corner and buried his face in his hands, a few strands of his chestnut hair falling over his face and mask.

I leaned forward slightly. It was the first time I had noticed that he wasn't wearing gloves. With apprehension I allowed myself to edge forward a bit my eyes running over his long fingers. The skin was pale but supple and I had to resist pulling one to me and running my fingertips over the callouses.

Suddenly his eyes snapped up to me and I threw myself backwards onto my bed. For a moment he looked amused, the corners of his lips rising slightly, but then again it could have been a trick of the light.

"So Lizzy," he said as he pulled his head up and smoothed his hair back down with his hands. "What was that letter that had everyone so upset this afternoon?"

I had to work very hard to suppress a small gasp. My mind was racing as I met his eyes and opened and shut my mouth stupidly. Hesitation would only make me look worse if he indeed knew nothing about Raoul.

"It was a letter from DePerix about a new ballet for the opera. We were just surprised that he would ask us to do such a thing at such a late notice." I said slowly trying to look as sincere as humanly possible.

Erik's eyes narrowed for a moment and his eyebrows shot down in question, but then he seemed to relax. He leaned back in his chair stretching his long trousered legs out in front of him.

"DePerix is indeed an idiot . . . but liars aren't much better." He stated calmly, his gaze fixed on me.

I gritted my jaw for a moment. To change my story would be disastrous so I merely rolled my eyes at him and leaned against my wall, tucking my legs under my skirts.

"Must you always think someone is out to get you?" I asked casually running my hands over my sheets and covers.

"If I have reason to . . . " Erik replied banging his hand on the edge of my bed causing me to jump slightly. "Still, if that's all, I wonder why Marie Giry acted so strangely. She usually loses her temper when given such short notice."

"Perhaps she was too shocked by the suddenness of the request Erik." I replied angelically.

"Perhaps . . . " He replied sullenly, but there was an edge to his voice now.

Still avoiding his eyes I stretched, feeling his gaze boring into me as I did so.

"It's late Erik, and I really need to be up early. You won't mind if I cut our discussion short?"

He was silent for a good moment before I heard the chair being scraped back and the rustle of his cape hem falling on the ground. I dared to look up at him then, and his turbulent gaze fell on mine. With a low bow he turned on his heel and pressed the hidden switch that operated the wall.

With one last look he stepped into the dim caverns that would take him home.

Whipping about, I watched as the fearfully handsome and dashing Raoul de Chagny made his way to the stage with DePerix and Cabartte in tow. Having never met the man before, I only realized it was he because of Meg's small scream and Madame Giry's sudden pallor.

He was all smiles and politeness to both men, dreadfully unaware of the danger he was in.

I clutched my mop to my chest as I paused in my work to watch him make his way up to where I was. _What an utter fool! Does he think Erik is dead? What is he thinking, coming here? _

For a moment another wave of panic rushed though me and I darted my eyes to the doors that led to the main hallway, looking for a woman of untold beauty and charm. The woman who had taken Erik's already battered heart and thrown it at his feet. _Christine de Chagny._

But to both my immense horror and relief there was no sign that Raoul had brought his young bride with him on this trip. In the time that I had been gazing at the door the men had moved ever closer, and for once I was oblivious to Cabartte's openly brash stares.

My mind was in a turmoil as I wondered what to do. _He has to know now . . . there's no way . . . but what will he do . . . Oh God . . . what do I do?_

Shifting from one foot to the other I bit my lip and began to frantically study the empty rafters and boxes. Most of the crew was still at breakfast, but would he risk trying to come out in broad daylight just to harm Raoul?

Suddenly a small shift in the shadows caught my eyes. One of the far left rafters was shaking slightly, without thinking clearly I threw down my mop, water splashing everywhere and I ran for the nearest stairway to the top flies.

**Erik**

I heard him the moment he came up in his bejeweled and belled coach and four. I had been sitting up in the highest part of the opera house gazing out onto the streets that I would never be able to walk on when the black horses caught my eye.

Dropping my book to the floor where a small mound of dust swirled up I moved closer to the stained glass window pressing my gloved hand against the chilled rim. Snorting and chomping at their bits, the horses pulled a large, magnificent coach that was decorated with a coat of arms. I was filled with massive rage.

Gritting my teeth and clenching my hands painfully I watched as Raoul de Chagny leapt out of the door grinning and simpering up at my opera house. Then he dashed up the stairs and I could see him no more. Trembling with fury I had to fight to make myself walk down the stairs to the mirror that would let me see into the main hall.

By the time I had contained myself enough to reach my goal I watched as that idiot fop praised the new building. The building I had to destroy because of his meddling ways. It was a fight just to keep myself from lashing out at him then. Suddenly, as Cabartte and DePerix greeted him with large grins, an idea came to me.

With a small smirk I began to make my way toward the backstage area, an evil idea forming in my mind.

As I snaked up stairs and overhead walkways, I was grateful that many of the useless stage hands were still in the kitchens as I trod softly about the usually more populated areas. When I came to the flies, I paused for a moment.

I watched as Raoul and the others slowly came up onto the stage, a small clattering sound hardly even catching my attention. Raoul paused to talk to a very peaked Marie and Meg before coming further back on the stage. Grinning insanely, I leapt over to one of the middle most rafters, a rafter that held one of the larger backdrops for the opera house. So heavy in fact that it could not be moved and was a permanent fixture in the rigging.

When I reached my goal, perched high over the stage I watched as Raoul stupidly made his way over to me. I ran my gloved hands over the thick rope that was tightly coiled in its holder, slowly loosening a strand.

His boots clicked on the wood and his high-pitched voice carried over to me, making my rage burn even brighter. I uncoiled a yard more and the heavy canvas swung slightly. _Just a bit closer . . . _

He was only a few feet from where I wanted him. I began to undo another strand of the rope, but a low frantic whisper caused me to pause in my actions. For a moment my heart nearly burst with fear and rage mixed together but once I turned my head and saw Lizzy's willowy frame a few inches from mine I calmed.

She had a look of absolute dread on her features her face flushed and her chest heaving slightly, but she looked more determined then I had ever seen her. She called my name again this time taking a small step forward. I growled at her as the rafter shook slightly under our combined weight.

I peered back down to where Raoul was. He was still a few feet short of where I needed him to be and I began to finish uncoiling the rope. Then he took another step toward the backdrop gritting my teeth I felt an odd feeling rush over me. My eyes gleaming from the excitement I watched as he moved ever closer.

"_Erik stop!" _A small pair of hands tried to pull me away from the rope and very nearly succeed. Stumbling slightly I quickly corrected myself and without any thought other than accomplishing my goal I shoved the little shoulder that was near me.

A rough gasp reached my ears but I was beyond caring. Even when the rafter lurched harshly as Lizzy nearly toppled over the side to her death didn't matter to me now. _Only a few more feet . . . _

The strange feelings began to course though me even more powerfully and I felt a mad urge just to leap on Raoul and bet him to death. I reigned myself in and began to work on yet another strand. The backdrop was swinging wildly now and Raoul was a few inches from the marked spot.

As he took a step back, I felt the rafter move once more. Lizzy apparently had regained her balance. My hands were just about to jerk the whole rope off the hook so that the backdrop would come crashing down on that damnable Raoul when a pair of cold hands grabbed my face.

I felt my mask slip slightly and moved one hand to right it, losing sight of Raoul. Suddenly a pair of soft and velvety lips met mine. Finally my eyes snapped into focus and I met Lizzy's brilliantly green gaze.

Some small part of my brain had registered that she was kissing me but too much of my mind was on killing that damn boy. I began to try and loosen the rope once more when I hissed in a sharp pain.

A harsh metallic taste filled my mouth and everything came into marvelous clarity. My grip dropped the rope as Lizzy's teeth dug deeper into the sensitive flesh of my lips drawing more blood. Her eyes were narrowed and her hands were hard upon the sides of my face. Without thinking my hand grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her closer to me. As I bit her back, a small groan escaped her.

**Elizabeth**

I didn't know what to do.

As I hovered dangerously over the edge of the thin wood, I tried to pull my right side back up. When Erik had shoved me, I had stumbled to the edge and fallen hard on my ankle. Grabbing the side I hoisted my body back up trying desperately to steady the swaying rafter.

Once I was safe again, I looked back over to where Erik was standing the backdrop snapping lower and lower as he took off the rope. I tried to raise myself back to my feet and felt a sharp pain shoot up my leg as I did so. But I was beyond caring now, so I ignored the ache and made my way over to Erik once more.

When I reached his side I gazed at his eyes, fogged over in madness and rage. Filled with horror, I watched as Raoul moved ever closer to his doom and then, without thinking, I grabbed Erik.

I don't know what possessed me to slam my lips onto his, but I did. For a moment he looked at me, but his grip was still strong on the fatal rope. In desperation I dug my teeth into his soft and lush lower lip. Blood sprang up instantly and the bitter sweet taste filled my mouth and my senses.

But it had gotten his attention. The blue eyes met mine, but this time with a startling clarity. The blue was almost transparent as it met my eyes and I trembled slightly, then his hand grabbed my neck, pulling me roughly to him. With equal intensity he bit my lip and his other hand pressed the side of my face tightly.

I tired to suppress my small outcry of pain but a low groan made it though my slightly open mouth and Erik responded with an even harder bite. I released his lower lip instantly but he kept his hold on me, the hand on my face now running down to my neckline.

With the pain and bruising force on my lips steadily becoming unbearable, I shoved against him and pushed myself out of his grasp. I stood a few feet from him, my chest heaving.

His own ragged breathing told me he was doing the same and I raised my eyes to his. My hand covering my bleeding lip, I met his piercing gaze and as I watched, a thin line of blood slid down his chin.

I slowly took my hand away and wiped the blood on my crisp apron. Erik held my gaze for a very long time, not even bothering wiping away his blood. He just looked at me.

He didn't look in the least bit angry with me and the strange gleam in his eye had vanished, instead he just appeared to be bemused with my odd behavior. He was just in his shirt tails and black trousers and suddenly I felt that he should have much less on. Flushing slightly I finally broke the stare and looked down at where Raoul had been.

Now the stage was empty and I heard DePerix's voice a few feet down the backstage hall. Taking a quick worried look over at Erik, I discovered that his eyes had never left me. Suddenly the blood on his swollen lip was very annoying.

"Erik . . . I . . . " I began but stopped when he took a small step toward me. An odd gleam was back in his eyes but this time it had nothing to do with Raoul. I backed up slightly until I hit the small railing on the rafter.

"Erik, Raoul's gone." I whispered as he moved ever closer to me, suddenly seeming terribly large and powerful.

That stopped him. His head snapped over to where Raoul had once stood so very close to death, and snarled, pure malice shining in his eyes. Taking small steps, I made my way off the rafter and onto the stronger walkway.

_What have you done, you idiot?_

When Erik looked back at me, I was already turning on my heel. Clutching my lip, I dashed away from this man who had nearly killed another. I was more frightened then I had been in my whole life. I could hardly believe he would kill someone just for coming into the opera house.

I halted on the stairs that led to the main hallway, my face in my hands, the tears streaming down my face mingling with the blood on my lips.

_He nearly killed another man._

Trembling and crying, I huddled into a small ball on the first step. _What have I gotten myself into? _My hand ran lightly over my neck where _his_ hand had been only moments before. I allowed myself to relive that one moment when I was the only thing he was thinking about. Closing my eyes I recalled the sensations that I had felt over and over.

But somewhere in the back of my mind a little voice called, _he might have just been thinking of her, of Christine and not Lizzy at all. _


	32. A New Assignment

**A/N :Gets down on bended knee: I am so sorry for the delay everyone! I swear it won't happen again :Crosses her heart: Thanks once more to CelticHeart for doing another stupendous editing job and to all of the reviews! **

**Chapter 31**

Stumbling down the last few flights of steps I crashed into the nearest wall. I sobbed long and hard, pressing my face into the cold mortar, my emotions all jumbled up in the back of my mind. Only when I pressed my lips together to muffle my cries did I remember just how badly they were bruised. With a low moan of pain I clutched my hands over the abused tissue and leaned my head against the wall.

With my body trembling violently I forced the tears to cease their long journeys down my cheeks. I tried to take deeper breaths but only ended up choking myself.

_What's wrong with me! Why did it hurt so much to think that Erik might have been thinking of another when I had been held so tightly in his arms? _

I moved my hand down to the collar of my plain dress clutching lightly at my neck. _Why? Why do I feel so strange? _

In the farthest reaches of my mind I replayed his hand coming behind me and pushing me closer to him, and my shock as I had arched into him, begging him to ease this strange stirring in my blood. Even as I was trying to will my body to be still, my hands had fluttered onto his arms and I had raised myself slightly on my tiptoes to reach his imposing height.

With a small cry I buried my face in my hands once more. _Stupid, stupid girl! _As the thoughts of Erik plagued me so did his previous actions.

_He had tried to kill an innocent man, a man who had merely taken away the only person he thought he could love. _

Disgusted I removed my hands and wiped my newly shed tears on the hem of my apron. It was animalistic, it was revolting. What man would ever kill another over a claimed woman?

But that was what this man was trying to do. He had stood up on that rafter, fully aware of what he was about to do and I had watched as a small grin passed over his face. A demented happiness for a man who was so battered he didn't know what side was up.

Slowly I heaved myself off the wall and further into the darkened corridor, my pale hands grabbing and clutching at the thin plaster for support as I walked. All I knew at that moment was that I wanted to get somewhere that I could be alone, a place where I would feel safe.

_Twice this man has abused me physically_, _and both times there had been a considerable threat on my very life. He had me in his grasp and Erik wasn't a man who relinquished anything willingly. _

As I came to the more populated areas I slunk around in the darker shadows under the many staircases, hoping that no one would pay me any heed.

_I couldn't very well rat him out now, though by doing so I might very well save my life. _

Walking down the stairs that led to the less favored entrance to the kitchens I ran my hand over my neck once more as if trying to find the impressions that his strong fingers had made. _No. I wouldn't dare tell anyone about him._

Shouldering open the large wooden frame that led to one of the only places where I felt safeI tried desperately to find a reason that I could convince myself with. But the small plea that he was dangerous just seemed to radiate off me every time.

Glancing around the tiles and counters, I hopped up on one of the higher stools. I was suddenly that reminded me of Erik's gentle caresses on my injured person that day so many weeks ago. His blue gaze had stilled my frantic heart; for the first time in over a year I felt safe. Safe with a man who would have no qualms over killing me or sending me to Cabartte if I dared to implicate him.

I again felt the sharp prick of tears behind my already raw eyes. I attempted to bite my lip to stop my unchecked emotion but only ended up sending more tears down my cheeks as pain erupted though me.

Running the back of my hand over my lips, I tried to calm myself, only to leap about ten feet in the air when the sharp groan of the kitchen door startled me.

Leaping out of the stool, which clattered reproachfully on the groundI whirled around. _Please don't let it be him . . . Please don't let it be him . . . _

A small pair of gleaming blue eyes and dark curls came into my view I felt my tense shoulders give an inch or two. Madeline smiled softly at me as she wiggled her way in the door, clutching at a large stack of ballet attire.

Once she was inside, she turned to me. A huge grin brightened her already flushed cheeks, but it died as soon as she took in my disheveled appearance. Her wise eyes widened and she rushed forward all in one instant.

As she dropped the clothes onto the nearest table, I found myself walking toward her. In one swift moment she had me in a tight hug. Wrapping my shaking arms about her, I clutched at her, glad to finally have some sort of comfort.

"Lizzy! Oh Lizzy whatever is the matter!" She said, pulling me away from her, in a movement that was so much like her mother's I nearly began to cry all over again.

"I...I don't know Madeline . . . I feel so mixed up." I whispered back, my voice sounding strange and low.

"Is it . . . is it Cabartte? Lizzy why don't you tell Mama . . . " She began but I cut her off.

"It's not Cabartte." I said my voice a bit harsher then it should have been. Madeline gave me a startled look.

"Is someone else . . . " She asked softly as I pulled myself away from her.

Moving slowly back to my overturned stool I shook my head. "No. It's someone who . . . I don't know how to say it . . . " I ended weakly leaning on the cool tiles of the counter.

"Is it the man who wanders about the rafters? The man who calls himself the Opera Ghost?" She asked and I looked up at her slowly.

_What would he do if I told her? Not even Sophie knows who he is . . . _

But my mouth had a mind of its own at that moment and before I realized what was going though my head my tongue had already sealed my fate.

"Yes, his name is Erik." I said my eyes wandering over to the mirror that had been placed so strategically in the center of the kitchens.

Madeline's eyes grew large once more and now it was her turn to pale. I slowly perched myself on the high stool and tried to gauge her reaction.

"So . . . so he really is there . . . " She muttered, more to herself then anyone. Suddenly her clear gaze ran to mine. Now it was my turn to be studied.

"Did he do this to you? Lizzy how long have you known about him?" She asked me slowly as if afraid of upsetting me.

"He . . . I tried to stop him . . . " I shook my head in frustration at her. "You don't understand Madeline . . . this man he sees and knows everything. I'm not sure what he'll do when he finds out I've taken you into my confidence." I said finally looking up at her pleadingly.

"I don't think he'll do anything too drastic to you . . . " Madeline said as if she could read my thoughts and feelings over the past few months.

"Erik was the one who burned down the opera house the first time. You have no idea how fast his moods can change . . . he's so . . . unpredictable. And I don't want him trying to get at you so that you won't cry bloody hell and tell everyone who he is."

Madeline stared at me long and hard when I stopped talking, in her eyes a mixture of confusion and sheer determination.

"I think that you can trust me Lizzy. Please . . . just tell me what he's doing. You can't carry this burden all on your own. I want . . . I want to help you." She trailed off tears welling in her eyes. "It's not fair that we always put everything on you. It's not fair that I'm always brushed aside whenever bad things happen, as if I can't understand them. I want to know what's going on in this opera house. First Mama and Sophie and now you. I hate being left behind . . . and I won't let it happen this time." Her face hardened and a look I'd never seen came over her face. It was one of pure desperation.

Now it was my turn to evaluate her as we sat in silence. She was right . . . I needed to tell someone . . . and Madeline was someone who could keep a confidence.

"I met him many months ago . . . " I began. And so I told her all I knew about this strange man and what he had done to my life as well as our families. All the while Madeline sat absolutely still in her chair, her eyes closed as if she was trying to absorb it all in.

When I came to the incident that had only occurred a few hours before her gaze riveted itself on mine.

"So he tried to push you off? Lizzy, this is the second time this Erik has tried to do you harm. I mean the first time wasn't entirely his fault but this incident is. And when he bit you . . . " She looked down at my swollen lips then back up at me.

"Why do you still let him near you? Why do you still want to help him?" She asked me a tone of disbelief underlying her words.

"I don't know . . . I just . . . he seems so lost. If you ever have the chance to meet him, Madeline you'd understand, there's just something about him that just makes you feel this intense pity. He's been so hurt in the past and I . . . " She cut me off suddenly.

"You want him don't you? Lizzy . . . do you love him?" She asked astutely.

I froze. Suddenly every fiber in my body began to quiver, not with fear but with the same odd feeling I'd had earlier when his lips were soft above mine.

"I..." My throat felt very dry and I unknowingly ran a finger over my neck once more. I narrowed my eyes in confusion at my fifteen-year-old stepsister, but I couldn't bring myself to shake my head no.

_Did I love Erik? Is it possible to love someone like that? Someone whom I feared and hated for trying to kill another. Someone who most likely only thought of me as a pawn in his scheme to bring the opera house under his domain._

I turned away from Madeline and eased myself onto the table, my arms stretched out in front of me. Once more I could see him sitting in my room with me, his compositions in his hands a small smile playing on his lips. I could feel his strong grip on me as I reeled in delirium on the steps that night when I fell ill. His voice low and gentle asking about my father, his hands cleaning my cuts from my encounter with Cabartte.

_I was in love with a man who didn't know me for whom I was. I was in love with a man who had no issues with hurting me until he got what he desired. I was in love with a man who needed someone to help him out of his hell._

Slowly I turned back to Madeline. Her eyes met mine the instant I faced her. I didn't have to say anything. I didn't even have to nod to acknowledge my consent. With a small smile Madeline gathered up her forgotten chore and went into the washroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I didn't see Erik for weeks after that fateful day. The day when I had been nearly thrown to my death by a man I now knew I loved. I knew in the back of my heart that he could never love me, I knew that his mind would always be on Christine. I knew that every time he looked at me it was only to compare me to a woman who had left him for another. I knew all this and yet I loved him still.

Late one night I decided to sit up with the damp clothes in the kitchens. As the merrily crackling flames licked and bit at one another I was curled up at a nearby table engrossed in a book that I had found in the library in the heart of Paris earlier that week.

The plot was beginning to make my insides churn with suspense and I leaned forward in my small chair my finger resting lightly on the edge of the next page. When my eyes reached the final word on the page and I automatically began to turn it, my eyes lifted slightly.

Over the yellowed rim of the spine my eyes caught a swift movement in the shadows. Gasping I dropped my book and began to stand when a gloved hand stilled me.

The dark leather rested lightly on my bent wrist and I tilted my head to see the familiar gleam of a porcelain white mask and the steady blue of Erik's eyes. For a long while we just stood perfectly still, my hand lifted slightly in his grasp, our eyes roaming over the other's face.

To my surprise he was the one to break the silence.

"So Lizzy . . . how does it feel to share the knowledge of my whereabouts and identity with others?" He asked maliciously his grip tightening on my fragile wrist. I felt the thin and brittle bones give slightly and I hissed in pain, trying to wrench my hand out of his viselike grip.

Keeping his turbulent eyes on mine and slowly uncoiled his fingers throwing my arm down harshly. "Two-faced bitch!" He muttered softly as he began to walk away.

Whatever emotion I might have been feeling at that moment was drowned out by my sudden temper. Gritting my teeth I swiftly moved in front of him, blocking his escape route.

"How _dare _you! I saved your life you ungrateful bastard! If you'd have killed that man then all would have been . . . "

He snorted at me and edged his way closer; out of habit I retreated a pace. "You! You've been nothing but trouble to me since the very beginning! All you're good for Lizzy my dear is sticking your nose where it doesn't belong! When you told that little chit your sob story, you placed me in jeopardy once more." He snarled his teeth bared slightly.

I narrowed my eyes in rage. "Madeline knows that she can't tell anyone! I can't carry this all by myself Erik! It's not fair to me . . . though I doubt you'd care anything about that . . . "

With a low roar he grabbed my throat and I tensed in shock and pain. In one swift movement he had me against the wall my hands clawing at his arm, my body panicking as my air supply was cut off.

"Not fair to you! Who the hell do you think you told her about! Whose trust did you betray! Nothing is fair Lizzy, and why should I give a damn about a girl who only tries to foil my plans! Who's kept Cabartte away from you? I have! Who's made sure you've kept your job even when you were sick and DePerix was threatening to throw your family out in the snows? Me!"

I was moaning and crying softly in pain now. "Please . . . I . . . can't . . . I can't breathe!" I managed to whisper out and Erik glaring at me released his grip on my throat and slammed me against the wall, his hands on both my shoulders.

"I could have gotten rid of that damned fop that day! And what did you have to do? Why Lizzy! You stuck your nose in my matters once more! You even had the nerve to . . . " I winced slightly when he stopped abruptly fully expecting another outburst. But none came. Opening my eyes slowly I dared to look into his.

The blue was shining brightly at me and all rage seemed to have left him suddenly. The tight grip on my shoulder loosened and one of his hands even trailed up to my neck. My breath came out in a low pant and I nearly felt my eyes roll back with pleasure when he placed his forehead on mine.

"Why? Why did you do it? How could you even kiss a monster like me?" He asked softly his palm coming up to my cheek. I didn't even reply, I wasn't quite sure if I could. Then just as quickly as his affectionate nature came on it was gone.

His hands returned to their previous position on my trembling shoulders and he glared at me. But his gaze wasn't one of fury, it was more a look of distrust.

"I watched you cry. Am I really that appalling?" He asked and with one smooth motion he ran his gloved finger over my now healed lip.

"Did you just do it to save him?" He snarled his fingers resting on my neck once more. He knew he was driving me insane, but I don't think even he realized that my shivers were more from desire then rage or fear.

He had returned to being the cold and calculating man that he always was around me. And I didn't feel the least bit compelled to answer his question. He knew very well that it had been out of desperation that my lips had found their way onto his, and there was no need to rub salt in the already festering wound.

I turned my head away from him, hearing his hand drop from my neck. I knew that he was waiting for me to say something but I was determined not to.

"Go Erik." I said softly trying to move out of his imprisoning arms. But before I could shove my way past him he grabbed my chin roughly, turning me back to him.

Forced to lock gazes I didn't struggle against him this time, only waited for him to speak.

"Your aunt and Cabartte are up to something. I want you to find out what." He said simply. I jerked my chin out of his grasp.

"What? Since when haven't you been able to see and know all?" I asked disgruntled. He knew very well what it might mean for me to confront Aunt Maria or Cabartte.

"I've learned a few things since that boy came. One is that I don't know how these people work and think as well as I should. That's why I'm sending you . . . you're a maid, Lizzy, just clean and listen. And for God's sake, don't stick your nose into things too badly." He said with a small hint of a smile on his lips.

"If I don't . . . " I began but he cut me off.

"Then you are in Cabartte's arms tomorrow morning." He said all traces of a smile gone from his hard features.

Sullenly I nodded and he released me. But before he left he turned back to me and kissed me lightly on the forehead. His lips were warm, but the skin that they touched grew cold. It was a kiss that made me think of death . . . or the promise of it if I didn't do as I was told.


	33. Carrying out the Plan

**A/N: Early chapter, early chapter! Thank you so much for the reviews! I'm glad to hear that it was your favorite chapter Ethalas Tuath'an :) I'm so happy that you enjoyed it as well Jen Lennon!**

**Big round of applause to CelticHeart, and to all of the other wonderful reviewers! **

**Chapter 32**

I couldn't sleep that night. For hours I wandered about the opera house, glad for once of the darkness and silence of the evening. I slowly climbed the steps that led up to the right side of the stage, clutching my thin shawl about my shivering shoulders. _How on earth was I supposed to get near Cabartte without him noticing me? Every time I come within ten feet of him his head comes up like some damn dog who's caught scent of his prey._

I walked aimlessly through the halls and passageways backstage, staying away from the rooms where people were sleeping. Once more I was completely at a loss of what to do. The stakes had most definitely been raised with this new request from Erik.

_Why couldn't he have just asked me to stitch some shirts . . . or heaven forbid . . . keep my nose out of the way this time._

As I came to a particularly dark and narrow passage I lifted my right hand to trail along the chilled plaster and peeling wallpaper. _I suppose only time will tell if this little idea of Erik's will actually work . . . _

Suddenly a sharp object caught the bottom of my wrist and tore the thin layer of skin. Crying out softly, I halted my stops and lifted my injured hand to my face. Running my thumb over the cleanly cut area I watched as a thin line of blood welled up. Trying to quell the flow, I placed the wound to my mouth. Just then, my eyes caught a flash of silver.

I slowly lowered my wrist and gazed in a mixture of horror and apprehension at the small switch that had led me to Erik's home so long ago. I was surprised that I had forgotten about it. Lightly, I stretched a lone finger out to trace its sharp edge, recalling Erik's powerful presence that night when I had first laid eyes on him.

_So much has changed since then . . . _

Removing my finger angrily I gritted my teeth and moved onward once more. Part of me was absolutely furious at this man who felt that he had every right to threaten me, but I still couldn't shake off the fact that I was attracted to him.

Still lost in my thoughts about this difficult and awe-inspiring man I made my way back to my room, and another sleepless night of pacing.

_There has to be some way to do his task, there just has to be . . . _

Early the next morning I quietly crept out of my room and made my way to the kitchens. To my immense relief I met no one along the way and could review my plan once more without any distractions. The walls were bathed in a pale winter's sunlight and my breath came out in a thick cloud of steam in front of me. Today was going to be an absolutely glorious day and yet I had to spend it locked away somewhere with Cabartte and my horrid aunt.

Sidestepping some of the larger props from Hannibal, I was finally in front of the large doors that led to the warm kitchens. Quickly going inside I turned to see Madeline sitting alone at the counter, a small cup of tea in her hands.

"Hullo Lizzy." She said softly to me, her eyes a bit brighter then usual. I smiled in return and busied myself plucking down the rows of hanging clothes by the now roaring fireplace. Folding each as they fell into my outstretched arms, I quickly lay them in neat piles on an empty table near by.

A small cough from across the room made me pause and I wheeled around to see who had made the noise. To my surprise it was Madeline, but it didn't seem to be a cough for attention. She was slouched over the counter, her hand patting her chest softly but she smiled at me when she caught my gaze.

"Don't worry, I probably just have a cold. This opera house is so damp and chilly during the winter months. Do you need any help?" She finished nodding toward my laden hands.

"No, but thank you, Madeline." I replied placing the last few shirts with the others before joining her.

"There should be a few cups in that top shelf and I think the water in the kettle is still plenty hot." Madeline said resuming her dainty sips.

After filling my small cup with tea, I sat across the counter from my younger stepsister, savoring the sweet and herbal taste on my lips.

"Is it any good, Lizzy? I think I might have botched up the leaves a bit when I put them in . . . " Madeline trailed off her eyes trying to gauge my reaction.

Grinning at her, I took another sip. "No, Madeline, it tastes wonderful."

For a moment she looked at me closely; when I didn't audibly gag on the steaming liquid, she grinned back.

"I'm glad you like it," she said softly.

"Now why on earth are you up so early, my dear Madeline?" I asked her once she had finished her cup and began to pour herself some more.

With a small grin she looked over at me. "I might just ask the same thing of you, darling Lizzy," she replied cattily.

Feigning absolute outrage, I slammed my teacup down. "What's this cheekiness, madam?"

Trying to hide her amusement she placed both hands on her hips and pouted.

"Is it so dreadfully wrong to want a cup of tea? Or were you planning on foiling me and making it yourself?"

Laughing at her impression of Aunt Maria, I asked her again.

"Really, Madeline, why are you up so early? Nothing's wrong, is it?"

Shaking her head at me she brought the kettle over and refilled my small cup. Her arms slightly sagging under the heavy brass object she glanced over her shoulder at me.

"If you must know, I couldn't sleep. This cough has been keeping me awake lately." She paused and looked slowly over at me. "And now it's your turn, why on earth are _you _up so early? Hannibal finished over a week ago so you can't possibly need to help collect the props again. Unless . . . "

"Lizzy, he wasn't supposed to meet you was he?" She asked worriedly and I was about to reassure her when Renee's voice drifted over.

"_He! _Lizzy who is this he! Have you finally found someone at last! Perhaps I won't have to spend many sleepless nights wondering what will become of my dear stepsister if she can't catch herself a man." Renee teased coming to sit next to me on a stool.

Grinning warily at her I replied, "Renee . . . I think I've fallen for the milk lad." I tried as best I could to look besotted, batting my eyes and fluttering my hands about my face.

"The milk lad is it? Well perhaps in ten years time he'll be perfect for you." Renee said with a small giggle.

"What? You don't think we'll be absolutely wonderful for each other for another ten years? He has the sweetest smile . . . " I trailed off a dreamy look coming into my eyes.

Before Renee could prepare a comeback, there was a small knock on the door that led to the stables. Madeline rushed over to open it, letting in a large gust of freezing air. A small boy dashed inside several new bottles of milk in his hands.

His brown hair was slightly tousled and his cheeks were rosy from the nip in the air outside. With a small and clumsy bow he looked timidly up at Renee and me.

"Please, Mademoiselles, do you have any empty bottles?" he asked softly. Of course, Renee broke out into peals of laugher at this, which just made the small lad even more unsure of himself. I watched as he shifted from one foot to the other his head hanging. With a small pinch to Renee's arm I rose and knelt in front of the boy.

"Here let me take these from you and I'll get you the empty bottles." I said gently, trying to make my smile as friendly as possible. The boy glanced quickly up at me and nodded solemnly.

He held the jugs out and I quickly took them from him. I winced at their coldness, my arms bending slightly under their weight.

"Goodness these are heavy! What a strong boy you are Peter! How far did you have to carry these?" I asked him as I placed them in the small cellar by the washroom.

"More than two miles, Mademoiselle Elizabeth. And I had to wake up before dawn so that I could get here." he said proudly, his head rising from his chest.

Smiling, I gave him the two empty bottles that had been sitting in the cellar by the top step. With another small bow he began to leave, but I stopped him extending a warm biscuit to him. A large grin split across his passive face and he gladly accepted the gift.

"Thank you so much Elizabeth! I mean . . . I mean Mademoiselle Elizabeth . . . I'm so sorry . . . " he began, flustered, but I shook my head at him.

"Don't worry about it Peter," I said, handing him yet another biscuit. "For that matter, I'd much rather you called me Lizzy than Mademoiselle Elizabeth." He flushed and bowed once more before hurrying out the door into the early chill of January.

I gazed after him for a few moments before Renee's laughter brought me back to the present.

"Oh yes, Lizzy, he'll make you a fine husband, that is after his mother finishes darning his socks and tucking him in every night."

The rest of the morning passed by uneventfully and all I had to do was finish some of the many loads of clothes that were sitting patiently in the laundry room. Sometime in the late afternoon while I was letting some of the shirts dry in the thin sunlight that filtered down into the stable yard I heard Cabartte's voice from across the way, sounding just as pompous and rude as usual.

"Yes, yes just put him over there. I don't plan on staying long today." he said.

Ducking behind one of the larger stalls I waited till his voice drifted off. I was still crouching down by the watering trough when Leo, the head groomsmen came around the corner with Cabartte's huge stallion in tow.

"Honestly Lizzy, of all the places for you to play hide and seek." He said grinning down at my hunched form. I narrowed my eyes playfully up at him and stuck my tongue out. His bearded face broke into a smile and he pulled the black horse back some so I could make my way out.

"Thank you, Leo." I said before making my way inside. The large bearded man merely laughed at me.

"If you see the wife, tell her I'm out here would you? There's a good girl, and next time try and find a better hiding spot." he called after me and I waved my consent over my shoulder.

I walked as briskly as I could through the now crowded kitchen, ruffling Sophie's hair slightly on the way out. _I need to find him, and fast . . . _

The main hallway was empty today and I paused in one of the darker corners, my ears perked for any noise. I didn't have to wait long.

Cabartte, with Aunt Maria in tow, rounded one of the upstairs corners, both looking like they were up too absolutely no good. Every so often, Cabartte would lean down and whisper in Aunt Maria's ear and she would nod her head fervently at him.

"Come on my dear, let us try and see if the manager's hallway is empty." Cabartte whispered to her, before the pair turned down a hallway.

Sighing angrily I quickly rounded back to the kitchens to get my cleaning supplies. _I hope to God this ludicrous plan works . . . _

"So what do you think we should do about this little issue of DePerix?" Aunt Maria's low and husky voice drifted over to where I was standing, hidden in the shadows, my dry cloth running over the same patch of wall.

"No idea, but I think first we should try working on this Raoul. If we could get him to join our ranks then DePerix will be out by this spring." Cabartte replied, resting his bulk on the wall behind him.

Slowly, I inched closer, making sure to keep in the shadows. Cabartte was loud, but he seemed to have a sixth sense regarding his surroundings. His voice barely reached me at times.

"Do you think that he will? And what do we do about this other issue? He didn't act as we had planned when Raoul showed up the other week," Aunt Maria said, and I had to restrain my gasp.

_So that's why Raoul was here . . . _

"No, no that didn't work as we had planned. Damn him . . . if only we could persuade this "Phantom" out of hiding. He must be worth hundreds . . . " Cabartte trailed off and I could feel a strange rage welling up inside me.

_Over my dead body you bastard . . . _

Cabartte moved forward, away from the wall and I hurriedly moved further down the hallway. "You know, my dear Maria, I might just have the perfect plan . . . "

Aunt Maria looked adoringly up at this sick excuse for a man. "What is it Roux? You always do have the best plans . . . "

Cabartte puffed his chest out and it was all I could do to keep from gagging. I quietly moved my cloth down the hallway, trying desperately to hear him.

"We could use . . . I think that well work . . . No Maria! Don't be a . . . Yes of course . . . No, later . . . Perhaps in late . . . "

I nearly screamed in frustration! I couldn't hear half of what he was saying and it vexed me greatly. _Who was this person? How in the world could they get Erik to come out of hiding? He wasn't stupid . . . quite the contrary . . . _

"But first we need to get that Raoul back in here. With his money this opera house could be one of the most successful ones in all of Paris. Come my dear . . . " Cabartte said, extending his hand to my aunt. Then they turned, turned toward the very place that I was hidden. _They were going to have to pass right by me . . . _

As swiftly and silently as I could I tried to make my way to a door that was unlocked, a hallway that branched elsewhere, anything that would allow me to hide. My fingers groped frantically as their footsteps and voices drew closer and closer.

There was absolutely nothing here. I began to quake slightly and suddenly Cabartte's voice came from only a few feet away. I was trapped.

I shut my eyes tight, hoping that they wouldn't see me. But this hallway, though larger than the others, was not wide enough for three people who were side by side. There was no way that he wouldn't bump into me. I heard his footsteps, large and booming, and Aunt Maria's dainty clips in her high heels.

I pressed myself against the wall as tightly as I could. _Run you fool, RUN!_

Nothing happened. Cabartte was going to catch me and everything I feared would become a reality. There was no way that he would let me slip from his grasp now. A small tear ran down my face and I could feel their body heat.

For some reason the wall next to me seemed to be moving but I ignored it. All I could think about was this horrible man who was inching closer and closer to me every second. I dropped one of my hands to my side, my cloth falling from my grasp.

Cabartte and Aunt Maria were nearly within touching distance when a strong hand grabbed my wrist painfully. I was pulled roughly back into a warm and solid chest, and I opened my mouth to scream in absolute terror. Before I could make a sound, another hand was lifted to my face, clamping my mouth shut.

Then quietly I was pulled further back and I watched in horror as Cabartte passed by, the panel sliding silently shut.


	34. The Pawn

**A/N: M'kay...apparently it's not such a good idea to put the thanks at the beginning. So I'll spare you all and get right to the story :)**

**Special Thanks to CelticHeart for editing!**

**Chapter 33**

**Erik**

I pulled Elizabeth's squirming form closer to me as the large panel slowly began to inch closed. But even when she was in relative safety from Cabartte and Madame Mason she still kicked the heel of her boot at me. Growling at her to keep still I tried to move further back into the welcoming darkness behind me. For a brief moment she froze, and I could almost feel the thick waves of tension radiating off her willowy form.

Slowly I glanced up to see what had caught her attention. I took a few more hasty steps when Cabartte's hulky body passed by the still-parted entrance. Then in the next instant he was gone and the panel hit the other wall and locked in place with a small groan.

In my own fear and worry I must have gripped Elizabeth's fragile wrist too tightly, because I heard her give a small whimper of pain as she once more lashed out at me. Dodging her swiftly aimed kicks I worked my way back into the stone corridor, still holding her to my chest.

Once we were within the sheltering walls of mortar and flickering torch light I roughly set her down and whirled her to me. Her head snapped back sharply and I quickly tried to rectify its unnatural movement by pulling her close once more.

She looked absolutely petrified, and her shoulders were trembling with a mixture of fear and rage. When she moved, her brilliant green eyes up to mine I nearly felt sorry for this poor wretch that I had dragged into my plans, but when the color turned steely with anger my quick wave of pity disappeared.

"What the bloody hell was that, Erik? Do you think this is some game where if you just happen to reach in and make a quick save of the pawn that victory is yours?" she snapped harshly, trying to push herself out of my grasp.

_Ungrateful little wench . . . _

I slowly closed my gloved fingers even tighter about her slender arms and watched as her expression turned from one of absolute fury to pain and desperation. Her small hands came up to my chest and she tried in vain to push me off of her, and my smirk only seemed to goad her further. Once more I dodged her feet, but this time I could easily respond with another sharp pinch on her arms. Needless to say she halted this new assault rather quickly.

"Stop it . . . Please Erik . . . " She whispered to me as she lowered her head to her chest, a small cry of pain escaping her lips. _I ought to wring her neck . . . _

I tightened my fingers about her one last time before slinging her unceremoniously against the wall. My rage was welling up swiftly as I watched her flatten herself against the stone, her chest heaving sightly.

Then, suddenly, she crumpled. It was as if her feet had just given way beneath her and as soon as they did she fell to her knees before finally landing solidly on her backside. Spreading her arms out on either side of her bent legs, she let out a few panted breaths. Once more I felt a strange welling of pity for this small and lithe creature beneath me, and this time it remained with me.

Slowly, I knelt down on my haunches in front of her, gazing at her hunched form. Before I even realized what I was doing my hand came under her chin and I forced her to look at me. Once more the startling green of her eyes reached me and for a few moments we remained in the same position; my fingers curled under her warm and soft chin as we just stared at one another, each trying to predict the other's next move.

She spoke first, her low voice barely reaching my ears. "Why did you want me to watch them? You knew that this would happen didn't you."

Once more I remained silent, and to my surprise her eyes welled with a small collection of unshed tears. I became mesmerized by her shifting eye color, the deep green melting into a softer tone, one that screamed pain.

"You know there are easier ways to get rid of me Erik. Why didn't you just tell me that . . . "

I cut her off sharply trying to shake the memories of her form molded against mine. _Idiot. Don't fall for the same trap again. Christine is the only one who really ever understood you, not this inquisitive maid. _

"Did you hear what they said? Cabartte, could you understand what he was saying to Mason?" My voice was much lower than usual and I silently cleared it, narrowing my eyes unconsciously at her.

For a moment she looked absolutely stunned, her petite mouth dropping slightly at my question. Then with a small shake of her head she replied, "No, I couldn't hear them. Cabartte kept lowering his voice. I only heard snatches of the conversation, and none of them make the least bit of sense."

Something in my facial expression must have changed because she shrank even closer to the wall when she finished. I gritted my teeth slightly and turned my gaze down the hallway.

_The one time I count on her to stick her nose into my affairs and she botches it up . . . _

"You are sure?" I asked slowly, trying hard not to let my mounting anger be made known to her.

"Of course I'm sure! I couldn't hear him! And why pray tell weren't you listening?" She asked indignantly.

I slowly turned my gaze back to her. Her face was flushed slightly and she had leaned off the wall in her rage. But a swift glare sent her back against it once more.

"The rooms." I said simply. _I can't very well be everywhere at once my dear._

"What do you mean _the rooms?" _

I sighed heavily and ground my teeth at her amazing stupidity. "The rooms. I'd hoped that after a year and a half of working here that you would have become a bit more acquainted with your surroundings, Lizzy. The room that was directly across from where your delightful aunt and Cabartte were standing was the manager's office. And not just any manager's office, but one that was occupied by a certain DePerix. Though I'm sure that he would have been deeply honored to see me I chose not to interrupt him at his desk. These walls only go so far. I can only be so many places."

When I looked back at her, the look that she wore could have wilted a whole field of flowers. For some reason I found her distress amusing and my small grin didn't improve her attitude.

Crossing her arms to her chest she bit her lower lip, a habit that she tended to do when she was worried or feeling particularly harassed. "They arranged for Raoul to come here you know." She said softly, her eyes flashing up to mine.

As she had assumed that I would do, I tensed, my hands clinching at my sides. Once more the unbidden images of her frantic scrambling on the flies and my blood loss hit me full on.

An uncomfortable silence stretched across the two of us, only the distant shush of the water braking it ever so often. I would glance over at her a few times, only to turn my gaze away when I noticed her head moving to look at me.

_What were they playing at? _

"And you didn't know anything about it?" I asked her softly.

"Meg received a letter the day before he came." She replied her eyes deliberately avoiding mine. Snarling I grabbed her chin once more, but even then she kept her gaze on the wall behind me.

"I didn't want you to know." She stated, and her now obsidian green eyes met mine. I could tell she wanted to get a point across, but I was too angry to notice or care.

"So you knew that he would come? And yet you said nothing?" I asked her slowly, my breathing coming in swiftly.

She nodded slightly and I felt something in me snap, my mind once more became a flurry of color and emotion.

Harshly I clenched her shoulders with my hand and hauled her to her feet. Moaning and whimpering with pain and shock, she crumpled into my hold. I don't know what might have happened to her if she had decided to act as she normally did and not submit, but luckily her will to fight back seemed to have disappeared.

When her shoulders slumped under my grasp and she leaned slightly into me, my fury dimmed a bit. The red that had been slowly but surely seeping about my gaze flickered back. Still gritting back my anger I placed my forehead against hers, forcing her to rest the back of her head against the wall.

"Why? Why didn't you tell me Lizzy?" I asked her. I could feel her shift her body slightly as the sharp stones cut into her back. Before I knew what I was doing, my hand slowly slid its way up her neck, till I reached the point where her pulse beat wildly against my gloved fingers. I had been cold for so long . . . and she was so warm . . .

"Can you blame me?" She replied softly, arching her neck under my touch, from either pleasure or absolute disgust. I removed my hand and pushed myself roughly away from her.

I moved back to the other end of the passageway. Watching her as I leaned leisurely against the wall, my veins still pounding slightly with my anger. Her eyes bored into mine and she swallowed before she continued.

"After how you acted when you had no idea of his coming? How on earth would you have been if you knew he was going to be there? You nearly . . . " She stopped suddenly and I arched my visible eyebrow at her.

Taking a shaky breath she replied, "After you nearly killed a man. A man who did absolutely nothing to you . . . "

My harsh bark of a laugh cut her short and she unknowingly pressed against the wall once more.

"Oh yes he did nothing to me. He only crushed my one dream. He took away any chance that I might have had at being human."

Elizabeth's eyes were filled with a mixture of both pity and wariness. Without a sound she straightened her cap and bit her lips once more.

"Why do you live here?" She asked me, so softly that I had to lean forward to catch her words.

Sneering at her I shook my head. _She could never understand. She's not Christine, Christine could relate to what I've gone through. She had lost someone dear to her. She needed my help. She needed **me**._

But a small voice in the back of my mind reminded me that Elizabeth too had lost someone dear to her.

_Elizabeth however, doesn't need your help. She doesn't need **you**. _

"Erik?" Her low and velvety accent brought me back to the present.

"It's none of your damned business is it Lizzy." I snapped feeling my resentment to her for not being Christine rising once more.

"Would it really hurt for you to tell me?" She asked, taking a small step toward me. My glare however halted her.

"Yes it would. My past is my own there is no need for me to tell you of it." I said coldly to her and she shrank back.

"Does Christine know?" She replied, her eyes on me, trying to gauge my reaction.

At the mention of Christine's name I could feel something inside me well up once more, and I closed my eyes at the sheer joy of it. _Christine._

I could see her smiling face as she hit note after note. Her light brown ringlets bouncing against her cheeks as she moved fluidly with the other dancers. But as always I had eyes only for her. But I had never seen her light up more then when _he_ was here. That dratted Raoul, that simpering boy who had dashed all my hopes, and now to be saved by this _woman_ in front of me . . .

My thoughts came to an abrupt halt. _This woman? _Since when had I seen Elizabeth as a woman? She was just another pawn in my plan, someone to move about until they had served their purpose. Yet my eyes moved up to her.

She was looking off toward the door that would lead her back into the opera house's main hallways. Her face was turned from mine, and I watched as her neck arched and moved as she tried to get a better view in the darkness. _It wasn't anything near as graceful as Christine's._ My gaze roamed down her thin body.

She was much smaller then Christine was, and she didn't have Christine's generous curves about her. I smirked, she was nothing compared to her. Plain and nosy. But then her eyes whirled to mine, and once more my breath was nearly knocked away.

Christine's had been brown and large, but hers were smaller and much more brilliant in their coloring. Elizabeth narrowed them in question then continued to look for the panel. Apparently she had given up all hope of my answer to her question.

"Christine didn't know. Nor should you." I said simply and she turned to me once more.

"I see . . . " Was all that she replied before she looked away once more.

"Come." I said sharply, drawing both her and myself out of our thoughts. "You need to get back. I won't have all hell come down because you're not doing your duties."

She glared at me as I passed her and I paused in front of her, gesturing to the hallway that would lead to the manager's hallway.

"How kind, Erik." She said venomously before moving past me. But before she could get to the panel's switch I slammed my arm out in front of her, trapping her momentarily. She looked up at me questioningly and wisely didn't move.

"I trust that you will have better information tomorrow." I said cooly enjoying her look of shock. "Don't expect me to save you every time you fall Lizzy, tomorrow you'll have to be much more careful."

Still gaping at me I reached behind her and flipped the small silver switch. With a low groan the panel began to move back and the plush hallway came into view.

"Don't fail me Lizzy." I said with a small smirk before shoving her out into the manager's passageway. She turned before the door once more slid shut.

"You're a bastard Erik!" She called to me and this time I couldn't hold in my chuckle of amusement.

**Kate September: I adore all your reviews, especially because you were one of my first reviewers :) I hope to have more of Erik's POV in the future chapters, and I hope you enjoy this one. : ManyHugs: **

Ethalas Tuath'an: Hope this answered some of your questions. I really enjoy your reviews because they point out things that I need to round out for the next chapters, and that always helps me with what to write next. :)

Lum::Laughs: I'm so glad you liked my little milk boy! He was a bit of a random after thought...I tend to have those alot lately. Hope everything is less stressful for you this week:)

Blodeuedd: Did I ever mention that you are **_my_**** hero! Not only do you give me absolutely wonderful Crane fiction to read, but you take the time to read everyone of your reviewers stories::Many Hugs:)**

**A/N: I hope to get another chapter out this Friday so look for it early next week. **

**Much Love, Valse De La Luna**


	35. An English Lesson

**A/N: I am so, so, so sorry for that horrible delay that ya'll had to go though for this chapter! **

**With 8 members of my family showing up on my doorstep looking for shelter from Rita, and the stress of catering to their needs for a week and a half, needless to say the chapter that I attempted to pen during that time was...lacking. **

**Seeing as it would be as much torture for the readers of New Horizon as listening to fingernails on a chalkboard...I decided to start over.**

**And so with no further ado...**

**Thanks so much CelticHeart for taking the time to edit this during your crazy week:)**

**Chapter 34**

After my chance encounter with Erik in the darkened hallways of the Opera Populaire I had taken to trying to pick up information in the more populated areas. This was easier said than done, but worth it in the event I met with some unfortunate accident.

For the present, I was in between two of the larger columns that supported the upper balconies. As I dusted the slick marble, I edged, ever so carefully, closer to the booming voice that was coming from the stage.

Cabartte had decided to return for the first practice of the new opera. The managers had decided to present Mozart's _The Magic Flute_, an old favorite from many years before.

Like many of the others before it, it gave La Carlotta many opportunities to torture the rest of us with her absurd antics.

But for the moment none of the major players in the opera were up on the stage, for now it all belonged to the dreadful manger Cabartte. Although I had planned to tackle the latest sets of dirty linens in the washroom, a small flutter in the upper half of box five halted my retreat.

Erik had become much more prone to strange fits of rage lately, and many times I seemed to be the unlucky recipient of his dark mood. To make matters worse, part of me still sang whenever he was near. It infuriated me to be so torn. I felt so abused and yet here I was, politely doing his bidding.

_Bastard. _I thought venomously as I edged around the other side of the column. _Why can't you do your own dirty work and leave me alone?_

Cabartte's deep tones bounced harshly across the marble that I leaned against, but I remained where I stood. _You can't talk forever, you great bloated . . . _

"It is my great honor to introduce you to the one who will be preforming the most coveted role of all in _The Magic Flute_, our one and only La Carlotta!" He boomed across the stage, and I watched as a corner of the thick red curtain in box five twitched.

"She will be The Queen of the Night, and I am sure that she will add plenty of life and joy to the role." Cabartte finished with a small flourish of his large hat, its ostentatious feather dancing.

_Wonderful . . . not only will she get the chance to be extremely over the top, but she'll also be allowed the great privilege to deafen us all._

I slipped quickly back into the shadows when Cabartte leapt down from his post and began to saunter his way over to the back. Tiptoeing over my steaming bucket, I leaned gingerly against the wall, trying to pinpoint where I could best hear his voice.

"Well spoke my dear Cabartte!" My aunt's simpering voice reached me and I recoiled out of habit.

"Thank you, Maria. I'm sure that our lovely Carlotta will do well. At least it will keep that horrid brat Sophie out of the way for the present. Now all we have to do is contact our dear little outside source and find out if the other performer is willing to return." Cabartte replied smugly and I could hear his soft chuckle from where I was hidden.

_What performer? Who else is there? _I thought bewilderedly as I moved to rest my back on the wall while the two talked of fancy dinner parties. _Surely not Christine! Not even Cabartte could be that terribly daft. They must mean someone else. But who?_

I moved haggardly back to my bucket, and tried to silently drain the water from the rag that floated in the soapy water. A small splash arose but I quickly muffled it by bringing the rag a bit closer to the hot water as I continued to try to pick up snippets of their conversation.

Ever so often Aunt Maria would mention something about "his" part of the deal, but Cabartte would carefully steer her in another direction. I was burning to know what they were talking about but they never seemed to stay on the same topic for more then a few moments. It was almost if they knew unseen ears were listening; they said just enough to whet one's appetite, but were careful not to give too much away.

"Well, my dear, shall we press on? I need to look for someone . . . " Cabartte purred softly and I could hear the rustle of his sleeves as he raised his arm. I was surprised to hear my aunt's small snort.

"To look for who? That dratted niece of mine?" She snapped and I could hear the familiar edge rise back into her voice. But her words chilled me to the bone and not even the slight scalding that I received on the tips of my fingers could revive me.

"What's so wrong with that? She's a lovely girl . . . and might just prove useful to me. After all, as a maid she sees and hears everything. She could help me find out what DePerix is up to. Damn that man, always sneaking about and avoiding me." He muttered and his boot stomped angrily on the wooden floor. I hoped it would cave in and he would fall straight down into that odd lake at the bottom of the opera.

"Yes, but she is my niece! She's a lazy good for nothing! All she does is carry her head in the clouds! She reads for hours!" Aunt Maria finished as if her name would be tainted by my hobby.

"Nevertheless, I want her and damn it I will have her before this year is out." Cabartte replied and his boots clicked on the floor. And as my wonderful luck would have it, he headed straight to where I was sitting.

_Joy. Why me? Why is it always me? _I thought as I attempted to pull myself up off the floor. To my horror, my boots caught in the hem of my dress and down I went. My arms rose instinctively in an attempt to break my fall, but before I could hit the hard wood I noticed a small flash of black and white.

A pair of warm and powerful arms swept me up and held me aloft, just a few inches from the floor. A loud and merry chuckle reached my fogged brain and I lifted my head slowly to see where it came from.

I lay haphazardly in the arms of a man that I hadn't seen in months. His face was somewhat familiar to me and I tried to place him.

"Are you alright Mademoiselle Brett?" He asked in a silky voice.

"I . . . I . . . think . . . so." I stammered as his strange blue gaze met mine. The almost transparent hue seemed to bore right though me and I wanted nothing more than for him to let me go. As if sensing this he smiled broadly and set me gently on my feet.

"You nearly had quite a fall there!" laughing once more, his eyes never left mine.

"Y. . . yes. Thank you for catching me, Monsieur . . . " But his hearty laugh cut me off and for once I couldn't help but smile a bit as well.

"There we are! You can smile!" He said and softly tapped on my chin. I blushed and pulled away. This wasn't just anyone that had caught me, no. I could never seem to fall discreetly; this was Manager DePerix' young nephew. Not too young, of course. His angular and well-toned face was most likely only a few years older than mine.

He and I had only talked in passing and I nearly didn't recognize him. Yet here he was laughing his head off at my clumsiness.

"So Mademoiselle Brett, how has life fared for you since joining the Populaire?" He asked as I ducked, trying to hide my flamed cheeks from his gaze. I waited for a moment or two before answering him, under the pretense of collecting my bucket. As I bent, though, I listened intently for any sound of Cabartte or Aunt Maria.

There was none.

As I rose and turned back to the younger DePerix, I let out a small sigh of utter relief. Once more I found myself trapped in his vibrantly clear blue eyes, so unlike the fiery gaze of Erik.

"Fine Monsieur, I'm terribly sorry to have fallen on you like that, I don't . . . " But once more he cut me off. I found myself bitting down on my lip to keep my annoyance down. There was nothing, nothing, that I detested more then someone who interrupts while another is talking.

"Well, actually, I was looking for you, Mademoiselle Brett." He stated and yet again his blue eyes seemed to sweep over mine. I found myself tensing under this look. _Has Cabartte bought him off?_

Shaking my head in my confusion I replied, "I'm sorry . . . you were looking . . . for _me_?"

"Yes I was." He grinned and I felt my suspicions die down a bit. Then, to my shock, I found myself grinning back at him; though I had no idea why.

"You see Mademoiselle Brett, I need to practice my English with someone. And seeing as it was your first language I thought I might as you to teach me."

I paused and slammed my jaw shut when I realized that I was gaping openly. "Teach you . . . to speak English?" I repeated dully.

"Well, not _teach _me per say, more like just allow me to talk with you in English. Here, I'll show you." He replied and, like the gentleman he was, held out his arm for me to hold on to.

I don't think I even realized that I gave him my consent until I found myself being led outside, into the streets of Paris. The snow filled air bit sharply at my thin dress and I hissed sharply. Still it felt wonderful to be outside in the open air, the crispness of winter all about me.

"Shall we begin?" A voice called to me, and I jerked back to reality. I looked up into his hypnotic eyes and nodded slowly and he grinned in return.

"Delightful." He said in a slow English drawl and I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. He seemed to notice my amusement and steered me around to the other side of the opera house.

"Amuse with my accent are you? Here let go back to where there are less person." He teased me in broken English. This time my mirth spilled out in a small giggle.

"I'm sorry sir!" I said quickly, letting the warmth of my native language roll over my tongue, the gentle scrape of my cockney accent delighting me.

"No worry dear. We just try again?" He said loudly, his face screwed up in concentration as he slowly formed the vowels and consonants.

DePerix and I traipsed around in the snow for several hours, laughing and poking playfully at one another, before we returned to the opera house. I felt happier then I had in months, and yet part of me didn't want to feel cheerful.

As I had laughed and joked with DePerix out in the snowy streets of Paris, feeling comfortable for the first time in weeks a deep sense of guilt seemed to well up. Each time a smile even hinted at the corners of my lips a small voice would whisper, _what about Erik?_

_Well, what about him? _I wasn't doing anything wrong was I? Just teaching this rich and dreadfully handsome man to speak English. And yet . . . something seemed wrong.

_Well why can't he just hire a tutor? _That thought made the grin die on my face more the once only to have him notice my gloom and try and rekindle it.

"Come on Mademoiselle Elizabeth! Where is that smile?" He would chant playfully at me in French while laying a large hand on the hem of my crisp cap.

Each time I would find myself grinning foolishly and beating myself up for it a moment later. _There's always something wrong with me. _I thought glumly as I bade DePerix goodbye at the opera doors.

Once I was inside the sheltering warmth of the opera house I turned and looked out the glass window to see him move toward a carriage bearing his family's large crest. His lanky yet powerful body leapt gracefully inside the velvet lined carriage and he motioned for the driver to go on.

_What's wrong with having a bit of fun? After all he just wants to learn English. _I thought as I slowly began to make my way across the marble floor of the main hallway, running my fingers over small angels that adorned the walls.

_Or is he keeping me away from something? _My steps became heavier as this drifted across my mind. _Is it possible that Cabartte and Aunt Maria know that I'm following them, and so he was just a decoy to lure me away while they made their plans?_

With a low angry sigh I pushed the possibility out of my mind. _Surely not. How could they know? _

Yet no matter how many times I tried to reassure myself that he was just trying to be friendly and learn English at the same time, something didn't seem to fall in place. _Oh this is **absurd **Lizzy! You've been around Erik for too long, now everything seems to be out to get you._

I moved languidly down the long hallway that led to my room, my hands tracing patterns on the thick wallpaper. Finally I came to the small wooden door that led to my room. Slowly turning the knob I heard Moppet's frantic mews from behind the wood.

Though my small white kitten had grown tremendously in the past few weeks, she still wasn't large enough to avoid being trod upon. Now I imagined her lean body rubbing against the wooden frame as I fumbled with the lock.

"I'm coming, Moppet." I called softly and the mewing softened. Then with a sharp groan my door swung open.

Sure enough the small kitten threw herself at me, purring and rubbing my legs softly. I bent down and cradled her lovingly in my arms.

"There, there, have you missed me?" I asked her, nuzzling my nose into her soft underbelly as she batted at my cap.

"Did you have a nice evening?" A low musical voice drawled. I nearly dropped Moppet in my shock. Then with a low growl issuing from his throat, Erik grabbed a match and lit a nearby candle the soft glow illuminating his rage-filled features.

"And what, pray tell, do you think you are doing?" He asked, pure malice dripping off his velvety and deep tones.


	36. Emotions

**Chapter 35**

I froze. I had never seen him like this before and the pure rage and naked malice that seemed to radiate from him was enough to make me catch my breath. His eyes had cleared to a transparent blue, full of raw and unrestrained anger.

Suddenly his large booted foot slammed down on the floor and it was all I could do to keep from turning and running out the door. He took long and powerful strides toward me, the floor creaking and groaning under his weight. I lowered my head down to my chin as he drew nearer, trying desperately to stop the trembling in my legs.

When the pounding of his feet stopped, I nervously shifted from one foot to the other but to no avail, soon my whole body was shaking with uncontrollable tremors.

I could feel the warmth of his body as he halted less than a foot away from my face, and my shivers weren't so fearful anymore. I studied the glossy oak panels on my floor, my eyes tracing over the thick lines and abrasions while his harsh breathing raked across my senses.

It was like trying to ignore a wild animal, you wanted to pretend like it wasn't there, yet at the same time you couldn't keep your eyes off it. An eternity seemed to pass as I clutched my small cat to my chest and tried desperately not to completely break down in tears as this extremely powerful man decided my fate.

_Why am I so stupid? What on earth possessed me to go with DePerix? Now all he has to do is lash out . . . either verbally or physically._

But he said nothing.

Moppet clawed impatiently at my shoulder, her small claws ripping shallow holes in my skin. I quickly adjusted her in my arms but she only mewed louder as she tried to leap from my arms.

_Oh no you don't, you're not leaving me alone with this man . . . _

"What do you think you're doing, Lizzy?" Erik asked his low tones crackling and snapping with his anger.

I ducked my head lower, like a reprimanded child, a shameful blush creeping its way across my face.

_What was I doing? What _was_ I doing?_

I tightened my grip on Moppet's pearly fur and relayed that question over and over. _What was I doing? _

All I had done was give that dammed DePerix an English lesson, no more no less, and besides Aunt Maria and Cabartte were leaving when he showed up. _What had I done wrong?_

Slowly my left leg halted in its trembling and I lifted my chin a bit. _What had I done wrong? _

Nothing.

_You did nothing Lizzy. You didn't reveal his presence. You followed Cabartte like he asked and yet here you are quaking. _

My head rose up quickly as I quickly regained composure over myself. _What right does he have to ask me that? _

"I beg your pardon?" I asked my voice thin but steady. I lifted my eyes to his and stood up straighter, my spine feeling as if it had been reinforced with steel. _I will not be browbeaten by this man . . . _

But Erik wasn't easily intimidated. In response to my recovery he merely took another step toward me, a step that made me retreat from my position of strength. I cursed myself inwardly as I instinctively stumbled backwards out of his way. The tables had turned on me viciously.

"I am not fond of repeating myself, Lizzy, dear. I asked what the hell do you think you are doing?" He said softly as a small smirk played its way across his lips. _Your move._

"That my _darling _Erik is none of your damned concern. I will do what I will, thank you." I snapped back, my temper, which always seemed so near to the surface when he was near, rising.

"Oh, but I think it is indeed my concern. When you stupidly decided to run off with the manager's nephew for an afternoon's _English lesson, _it became my concern." Erik growled back at me, one gloved hand clenched roughly at his side.

"What does it matter? Aunt Maria and Cabartte had finished their conversation! There was no other need for me to be there, and DePerix asked . . . " I began roughly but Erik cut me off.

"Or was there a need for you? You wouldn't know would you, you idiot girl? For all you know, Lizzy, your blundering aunt and Cabartte could have come back later. Or he could have just been a ploy. But your pathetic mind never quite grasps the larger picture does it? You're a simpleton, Lizzy, and your stupidity is grating on me. If I'd have known that you were this dense then I wouldn't have bothered with you. In fact, it's a wonder that I still do." His voice was like quicksilver, smooth and burning hot as it pierced my senses.

_Check mate._

I felt my arms slacken as his words reached me and burrowed deep into the darkest crevices of my mind. Moppet dropped lightly from my grasp but I didn't care anymore. All I could feel were my wounds that had just so recently healed being slashed open once more. I could feel myself shrinking, my heart breaking yet again.

_Don't let him see you like this Lizzy. He doesn't care for you . . . just push past it . . . no matter how much it hurts . . . _

In that moment, the cold, emotionless shield that had nearly disappeared was firmly back in place. As I felt the numbness of my own denial run through my veins, I knew that it might take years to tear it down again.

"He asked for my help, just like you. I seem to have fallen into the habit of assisting lost causes, men who only take and never give back. I seem to like helping those who have no future and who can only pine for the past. She's not coming back to you Erik, she's not." I said slowly and softly.

The air seemed to crackle with an unseen energy as Erik's rage grew and finally bubbled over. He lunged for me but this time I didn't shiver under his fury. I simply let him grip my shoulders as he shook me roughly about.

"Don't you ever say that!" he roared, his face inches from mine, his stark mask glowing in the dim candle light.

Although his bruising fingers dug into my arms, I felt no pain. I lazily lifted my head and met his turbulent gaze.

"Tell me then, what gave you the right to call me a simpleton. Do forgive my faults Erik, for as you now know they are many, but try to understand. I did my best for you." I said, my voice strange and hollow to my ears.

It must have sounded odd to him as well because suddenly he released his grip on me. As his eyes continued to meet mine, they softened slightly.

"What's wrong?" he asked simply, some of his temper dissipating. But I felt giddy and disconnected as I allowed my head to drift slowly to one side.

With a deep snarl Erik's hand reached out and gripped my chin, pulling me closer to him. Something in me stirred, but I pushed it down. _What good did it do?_

"Look at me, Lizzy!" he whispered and once more I felt a jolt of warmth. "Look at me when I'm talking to you," he finished, his tone returning to its deep richness once more.

"Why does it matter to you?" I asked, my voice still monotone and dreary. Erik's eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. For a moment he looked like he was going to rage at me again but then his face calmed. He looked away from me and I noticed a small glint of something in his eye that flared as he looked back to me, but it was gone before I could get a better look.

"He could have harmed you. He might be working for Cabartte and your aunt, Lizzy, you have to be careful. I don't want anything to happen to you . . . " He trailed off then and once more a look of absolute rage flowed over him, but this time it was directed internally.

_I don't want anything to happen to you . . . _

My mind tried to grip each word as it lingered in my head. The feeling that had shifted in me when he pulled me to him rose again, and this time it didn't fall back down immediately. A small biting sensation was crawling its way up my arms. The numbness was falling . . .

_I don't want anything to happen to you . . . _

The thick shield that I had placed up remained, but it wasn't as strong now, I could feel my heart speeding up when his eyes met mine, and a sharp pain was racing its way across my arms.

_I don't want anything to happen to you . . . _

Then the pain became unbearable and I cried out sharply, my hands wrapping slowly about my tender flesh. As I lifted one of my arms, I noticed the deep purple streaks that were beginning to blossom.

I felt the thin pricks of unshed tears pull at the corners of my eyes. I began to lower my arm once more, when suddenly Erik's gloved hand wrapped gently about my wrist.

Slowly, almost tenderly, he straightened my arm, his other hand tracing the marks that he had made. I lifted my head to his, trying to gauge what was running through his mind. His eyes met mine; his once angry demeanor was now soft and quiet. It was a look that begged me for my forgiveness . . .

"That hurt." I said simply as I bit my lip and studied the angles of his face, admiring the gleam of his mask. For once I wondered what lay under it.

As if sensing this new thought Erik dropped both my gaze and my arm, the latter falling heavily to my side. He moved away from me, over nearer to the false wall, shrouding himself in shadows.

"They aren't that deep . . . the bruises . . . they should heal within a few days," he replied, turning his face so that all I could see was an emotionless mask. With a small nod I sank onto my bed, Moppet leaping into my lap and purring contentedly.

"What did you do . . . a moment ago . . . " Erik asked, still keeping himself in the darkness.

"I don't know really. I think I just kind of shut myself down . . . " I trailed off as I continued to examine the deep purple and blue streaks that ran down my body.

"I didn't mean to say what I did . . . " He said softly, his voice barely reaching me. I looked up to find that his gaze was resting on me once more, but this time it wasn't so calculating. For once he seemed to be looking at me as a person . . . as a woman. But as soon as he noticed my comprehension he turned away, melting into the shadows.

Only when I heard the telltale sound of the panel sliding shut and noticed that the sent of incense and brandy were fading into the air did I reply.

"I meant what I said . . . She's not coming back . . . but I suppose I'll always be here . . . I just hope you start to notice me . . . "

Then with a low sigh I unbuttoned my dress pulled on my night shift and bundled into a small ball in my bed, Moppet curled up beside me. My last thought was the hope that tomorrow might be a better day.


	37. A New Development

**A/N: So sorry for the delay ya'll. School took over there for awhile, but I hope to have the next chapter up soon. Till then, I wish all of youa very MerryChristmas!**

**:Hands out gingerbread and Egg Nogg:**

**Chapter 36**

But for all my hoping tomorrow was not a "better day." Nor was the next or even the day after that. Every thing seemed to make me nervous and jumpy, even simple calls of greeting from other workers had me stumbling to catch all my cleaning supplies as I leapt in shock.

"Whoa there, Lizzy-girl!" called one of the male singers as I drenched the front of my gown with the scalding water I was carrying. Trying unsuccessfully to keep the deep red flush from washing over my face, I simply nodded my response and trudged forward.

When I finally rounded a corner into a hallway that wasn't packed with dancers, I hastily slammed my bucket down on a nearby table and set about fixing my soiled dress. As I pulled a few buttons loose and frantically attempted to dry the cloth by fanning it in the chilled air, I tried to remember how many times I'd let my nerves get the better of me that day. Ever since that night, Erik had made himself quite scarce, not even bothering to leave me notes to spy on Cabartte or my aunt. _In fact, _I thought as I swiftly re buttoned my blouse, _I hadn't even seen him lurking about in his box or the rafters as of late. _

With a low sigh I pulled my bucket back onto my hip, _to hell with the gown_.

As I shoved my way past loitering stagehands, I soon came to La Carlotta's private suite. The door was slightly open and the thick smell of the sopranos rose perfume wafted out heavily into the hall. Straightening my back slightly and smoothing the still damp dress, I reached out to knock on her door.

"What? Who on earth is it now!" the loud screech caused me to wince slightly as a gaunt faced woman opened the door, her mouth tightening primly when she saw my harried state.

"I've brought La Carlotta her hot water," I stated quickly, pulling the tin bucket forward as proof.

"Finally! Show the oaf in!" came the reply, and I ducked into the brightly lit dressing room. The sharp tones of roses mixed with brilliantly pink walls nearly made me step back into the neutral comfort of the dark hallways.

"Well don't just stand there, idiot! Bring the hot water and pour it in the basin!" Carlotta called. For a moment I couldn't spot her as her gown blended in perfectly with her painfully pink surroundings.

Quietly acquiescing to her request, I made my way over to her dresser where, to my surprise, a plain white basin sat patiently. As I poured in the steaming water, her two dogs yipped and danced around my ankles.

Smiling down at them, my eyes suddenly caught sight of the large mirror at the end of the far wall. My breath caught in my throat as the memories of that night so long ago came back to me. Erik had stood in that mirror. I could still clearly see his gloved fist reaching out for me.

Today, however, there was nothing but my own reflection gazing back at me, and for a moment I regretted not seeing his masked face.

"Girl! _Girl!_" Carlotta's voice shook me deeply and once more I found myself clutching at a dropping bucket.

"Yes Madame?" I asked, once the handle was yet again firmly in my grasp.

"Are you not finished?" She snapped, her piercing brown eyes sweeping over my half-drowned state.

"Yes Madame," I replied carefully. It never was wise to upset this sharp tempered woman.

"Then what on earth are you looking at? Have you never seen a mirror before?" She replied her voice taking on a dangerously sharp edge.

"Yes Madame." I replied through gritted teeth.

"Then I suggest you get back to work." And with that she turned away from me, clearly losing interest with my monotone replies. As I gathered the bucket closer to me and began to leave I glanced once more at the monstrous mirror.

This time I wasn't disappointed.

Erik was clearly defined against the stark blackness that surrounded him, his mask gleaming wildly in the dense candlelight. For a moment his head was turned toward Carlotta, then without warning he turned his gaze to me.

I could almost imagine his deep blue eyes boring into my own, and this time I wasn't as successful at catching the bucket.

The sharp clatter as it slammed into the worn wooden floor made me jump about a foot, my gaze ripped from the mirror.

"You a stupid, stupid girl!" Carlotta raged, walking briskly over to me. "Pick that up a bucket and get out of my room! How dare you!"

Stumbling over the hem of my dress I scooped up the bucket and hastily ran out. Once I was safely in the hall again, I leaned back against the wall, my chest heaving.

_I need to get a grip. What's the matter with me!_

Closing my eyes I gently slammed my head into the thin plaster. _How clumsy can you be Lizzy?_

"Now was that really called for my dear?" A low voice whispered close to my ear.

I leapt away from the wall my eyes running up and down the hallway. But he was nowhere to be seen. Narrowing my eyes at the wall, I moved closer to it, only to catch the lilting tones of his laughter.

"Erik, what the hell are you doing?" I snarled, pressing my fingers against the cold plaster.

"Why, keeping an eye on you. Surprisingly you've managed to keep your nose out of trouble these past few days," he replied, his tone lazy.

"And what, pray tell, prompted you to do that?" I snapped, irked that he'd been following me.

"Your past actions, Lizzy. After all, I have no need to follow someone who doesn't do the unpredictable every few moments." He said, laughter in his tone once more.

"For your information . . . " I began loudly, but was cut off quite unexpectedly.

"Why Mademoiselle Brett! Who on earth might you be talking to so warmly?"

I whirled about and dropped my bucket yet again. Muttering curses under my breath both at the bucket and the musical laughter that rose from the wall behind me, I looked up to see who had spoken.

Standing a few feet away was DePerix' nephew and lurking in the shadows behind him, Cabartte. Instinctively, I moved against the wall, my heart pounding with fear.

_What do they mean by coming upon me in this deserted part of the opera house? _

When DePerix took a step toward me, I flattened my body closer to the wall, and for a moment I thought I heard Erik give a soft growl of displeasure as both men sauntered up to me.

"Goodness Elizabeth! Why on earth do you look so frightened? You'd think we were going to cook you and eat you alive!" DePerix chuckled, but I remained where I was.

"Lizzy, move, damn you! Why are you just standing there?" Erik whispered to me, his tone dark and foreboding.

Quickly gathering my wits, I slowly eased my way to the side, away from both advancing me.

"You startled me Monsieurs. I was not expecting to run into you down here." I responded lamely, my feet edging to a more populated hall.

"I'm sure you'll forgive our abruptness." DePerix responded kindly, his light blue gaze meeting my own. For a moment I just stared into his strikingly beautiful eyes, their blue capturing me and drawing me in.

"We had no idea that we would meet you down here my darling girl." Cabartte's reply broke the spell as my eyes moved onto his sickening face. His grin chilled me to my very bones.

I smiled weakly at both and continued to walk toward the loudly talking crowd a few feet away.

"I hope we didn't startle you too badly Elizabeth." DePerix said, politely halting in his steps when he noticed my unease. Cabartte was visibly livid at this response and begrudgingly stopped his own advance.

"No, not at all Monsieur." I replied, finally standing a few inches from the farthest group in the hall way.

"Why so formal, my dear Elizabeth? My friends call me Jean," DePerix' nephew said with a gentle smile. But Cabartte was not so easily diverted.

"I wonder who were you talking to, and quite animated, at that," Cabartte asked, his reptilian smile causing me to move a few steps backwards.

"I was just calling after one of the stagehands who had just gotten into an argument with me." I replied swiftly, praying that this ploy would work.

"Did he walk into the wall?" Cabartte's grin spread farther along his face.

"No Monsieur, I was cleaning the wall." I replied calmly, though my heart was fluttering madly against my chest.

"Cleaning the wall, then why was it dry . . . " Cabartte began, but DePerix mercifully cut him off.

"Now, now Cabartte, don't browbeat the woman! She most likely was about to start cleaning the wall when we chanced upon her. Now my dear Elizabeth, if you will excuse us, we have some business to discuss." Jean smiled and gave a short bow to me before he and Cabartte moved on.

I stared after his well-formed figure as he walked purposefully down toward the Managers' wing. There was something about his gentlemanly behavior that nearly had my blood singing the way it did whenever Erik was near. _He's so different from Erik. Calm, collected, polite, and sensitive to my emotions. And yet . . . _

As I slowly worked my way though the crush in the hall, I went over every conversation that I'd had with Jean. He was always so polite, always so refined. Everything that Erik was not. Yet, I just felt so wary around him.

Shaking my head, I moved down toward the kitchens. _There was something going on between the two of them . . . If I could just put my finger on it . . . _

As I passed through one of the larger hallways, where the rafters were placed close to the windows, a sudden shadow on one of the boards above caused the light to shift. For a moment I halted my fevered walking and glanced up to see one of the small curtains swaying as if someone has just lifted it. Pale but bright streams of light danced lightly about me and for a moment all thoughts of Jean were driven from my mind.

Shoving open the heavy kitchen door I entered the warm room. Noticing Madeline sitting at the counter, gave her a quick greeting on my way to my next daunting task, finishing the laundry.

As I set the bucket down and gave her a quick wave I noticed she was less animated then usual. Her dark waves were limply clinging to her face and she looked thinner.

"Madeline," I called as I walked into the chilly laundry room. "Are you all right?"

After a quick, but hacking cough Madeline answered, "Yes, I think I'm all right. I just can't seem to get past this cold."

"Has mother taken you to a doctor?" I asked as I began to stir the scalding water and soap.

"No, not yet. I think I'll be better soon though Lizzy." Madeline replied but soon after she was coughing again.

"That doesn't sound good." I said, tossing in the nearest load of dirty linens. For a few moments neither of us said anything and I was fully concentrated on stirring the clothes and soap until I could safely let them soak for a while.

"Do you want me to make you some tea?" I asked as I came back into the delightfully warm kitchen, drying my hands on my apron.

"I've already made some." Madeline said, gesturing to a small chipped cup in front of her. I walked over to her and gently placed my hand on her pale forehead.

"You're quite warm, darling." I said as I picked up her cup and moved back to the fire and placed the tea kettle over the dying flames.

"It's just a cold Lizzy." Madeline replied swiftly, but her eyes seemed to shine unnaturally at me as I stoked a fresh fire and filled the tea kettle with water.

"Well, it's a bad one then Madeline. I think you should tell mother." I replied.

"She'll just take me to some doctor who prefers bleeding to any real help." Madeline muttered angrily.

"You know mother would never let them bleed you dear." I said softly as I scooped some tea leaves into the bubbling water in the kettle.

"I know. I just think I'll be fine in a few days though . . . " She said weakly.

"Madeline," I began pouring her cup with a fresh batch of tea and carrying it over to her hunched form. "You said that over a week ago and you don't sound any better."

She simply shrugged and took a few sips out of the chipped cup her eyes lost in the flickering flames of the fire.

I looked at her sharply as I suddenly remembered my bout with Scarlet Fever.

"Madeline . . . " My stomach sank as without warning Madeline crumpled to the floor. Dropping my bucket, I ran over to her side. "Madeline. Madeline!" I called fiercely. I lifted my hand to slap her face, when it was stilled by another's.

"Erik!" I hissed. "What are you doing here?"

"Hush, Lizzy, and follow me. We have to get her into her bed, and you can't do it alone." Picking her up, Erik moved quickly to the mirror. He did not stop to see if I was following him, but once I moved through the mirror into the passage, he pressed the lever and the mirror closed on the empty kitchen.


	38. Fear

**A/N:**

**After nearly three years, I've decided to return to New Horizon. I apologize profusely for the horribly unfair wait I put everyone through, but I figured it was time I pushed past my writer's block and finished my story.**

**This chapter has not yet been edited by my beta reader, so please excuse any grammatical errors for the time being. I will hopefully have an edited version up soon.**

**Enjoy and please review :)**

**Elizabeth**

The pathway that lay behind the mirror in the kitchen was pitch black. My hands reached out instinctively to find a hard surface, only to find nothing. As I stumbled blindly forward, my feet landed in a stagnant pool of icy water. I could hear Erik's deep breathing a few inches in front of me and made my way quickly to where I thought he was. As I sloshed through the chilly water I could feel a wild hysteria rising in my chest, threatening to beat its way out of me. _What if it's too late? She could be dying! Oh Madeline, please hang on for another few minutes! _

"I know it's dark Lizzy, but you're going to have move faster then this. I can't carry both of you." Erik's voice murmured, close to my ear. I nodded my assent, knowing full well that he would be able to see the minute movement.

"Just keep your ears open. You can hear the water rushing faster if it's leading to a hole." With that I could hear his feet turn to walk further down the dark labyrinth. I followed as fast as I possibly could, but even with his advice fresh in my mind I still managed to slip and slide every few feet.

As I tried to regain my fragile balance, my foot found a shallow sinkhole and slipped painfully into it. I whimpered as quietly as I could as I fell roughly into the water, my entire being shaking with pain and anxiety.

But despite my efforts to remain as calm as possible, everything about that jarring fall made my fears rise to the surface. Hot tears began to stream down my face and to my utter dismay I let out a sharp sob. I couldn't make it. I could feel my body beginning to shut down. _Madeline was dying._

**Erik**

I heard Elizabeth stumbling about in the waters behind me but all my energy was focused on the small child in my arms. Her skin felt like fire and she seemed to have great difficulty breathing. I had seen these symptoms before and if my guess was correct then this small girl didn't have a prayer.

But my thoughts snapped quickly back to Elizabeth when I heard her let out a small cry of pain. I turned to see her lying in the freezing water, her ankle twisted at an odd angle to her side. She tried to rise but her foot was badly snagged. As I began to walk back towards her she let out a mournful sob, her entire body trembling.

I halted abruptly, causing the girl in my arms to cough violently. I had never seen Elizabeth completely and utterly _give up_.

Tears began to fall softly from her face and my heart stirred slightly at the sight. _Elizabeth. _

I'd watched heartlessly as Cabartte and DePerix's dratted nephew had circled her like two ravenous dogs, only interfering when it was nearly too late for her to dash off. But when Jean DePerix spoke to her I'd noticed a slight change in her demeanor. She was still wary, but part of her seemed to relax_. _My blood boiled when _he_ saved her from Cabarette's next advance and she'd gazed at him _gratefully. _

Never before had I seen her eyes soften so, the green turning to a light hazel, and her lips parting softly. My breathing became erratic as my temper rose sharply. _You belong to me Lizzy! No one else!_ But I'd quickly regained myself. She was not mine. She was not Christine, she was _not_ what I wanted; what I needed.

I'd followed her as she wound her way down to the warm kitchens, trying to prove to myself that she was nothing. Perhaps if I threatened her with Cabarette then she would be less inclined to gaze so warmly after DePerix's nephew. Yes, that would work quite well.

She'd been talking to her younger stepsister while my thoughts whirled around me, but her sharp shout had brought me sharply from my reverie.

Now here she was, this small girl who had caused me so much trouble, weeping uncontrollably near my feet. _Elizabeth. _Once more I felt the slight pounding in my heart, but this time I shoved it back down.

**Elizabeth**

"Get up Lizzy." His voice hit my ears roughly and I didn't dare disobey him. I pulled my shivering self up gingerly, unsuccessfully trying to halt my tears.

"We're nearly there. All you're doing is making the situation worse. If you fall again I won't stop." Erik's deep voice came over me like a winter's chill. I knew he fully meant what he said. This time I didn't even bother to nod to him.

An entire age seemed to stretch by before I heard the tell-tale sound of a mirror or wall sliding back. Erik ushered me quickly into Madeline's dark room and I gladly stepped onto the hard wooden surface. I heard a quick scrape, then winced my eyes away from the match Erik had lit.

"Take her." He said quietly to me, his eyes flashing from blue to gold. Not daring to speak I pulled my beloved Madeline out of his strong grasp. Her body was covered with a fine sheen of sweat, and her skin was terribly warm. I clutched her to me while Erik lit several candles on her dresser.

"Oh my darling." I whispered into her hair. I looked over to Erik and met his unfathomable gaze. His eyes seemed to drift from color to color, his mood shifting along with the change. After a moment I gathered my courage.

"What's wrong with her? She's..." I was cut off by his abrupt reply.

"You need to lay her down. Prop her up so air can come easily to her."

I placed Madeline gingerly down on her small bed, tenderly wrapping blankets around her small frame. Her shallow breaths seemed to come a little easier, and with a final cough, she slipped into sleep. I collapsed into a nearby chair burying my face in my hands.

"Tell me Erik. I know you know what's wrong with her. Don't bother to shield me or honey-coat it." I said wearily. I raised my gaze to meet his and sucked in a quick breath. His eyes had become the purest blue I'd ever seen and a deep sense of...compassion radiated from him. He stepped closer to where I sat, his eyes never leaving mine. Despite everything, my heart began to pound with something that I knew wasn't fear.

"I've seen this condition several times in my life. If it is what I believe it to be...then she is not long for this world."

Then everything seemed to fall apart.


	39. Request

**A/N:**

**Like my other chapter, this one is also un-edited. I tried to fix as many mistakes as I could, but, I'm sure I missed some. If anyone is intrested in being my beta-reader please e-mail me at .**

**Thank you Terpsichore314 and Kate September for reviewing! Sends them both a tin of oven baked cookies**

_Madeline. My beloved stepsister, one of my dearest friends, was dying. _

My fingers were wrapped tightly around Madeline's hand as she slept. Some of her color had come back, but she still looked so frail_. _Slowly, so I wouldn't wake her, I stroked a strand of her ebony hair. _Hold on Madeline, please God, let her hold on ._

"Lizzy. You need to get some rest." My stepmother's voice was strained as she knelt beside me. I met her dark eyes slowly, trying to plead with her to let me stay.

"I don't want to leave her..." I began, but she was insistent.

"I know my love, but I don't think the managers will see Madeline's sudden illness as an excuse for you not to work tomorrow," she said gently, placing her comforting hand on my shoulder.

"I will do everything in my power to make sure she's here to greet you in the morning. Now go on dearest." With that, my stepmother rose and motioned for me to do the same.

"Everything will be better in the morning, I promise." Her words were optimistic, but her tone was hollow. Still, I managed a small smile for her and gave her a reassuring hug.

"I know. I just can't help but worry..." I said softly as she shut the door behind me. Turning, I found myself alone in the dimly lit hallway beside the kitchens. Winter still held Paris in her firm grip and the air that passed through the opera house had a sharp bite. Shivering, I quickly made my way towards my room, and warmth.

_After Erik told me what he believed Madeline contracted I felt my heart stop dead in my chest. 'I've never seen anyone recover...' Erik's voice was like a low drum in my ears, his words circling in my mind like vultures, preying on my weakened state. Without a word I slipped from the room, trying to find anyone who could help. _

_In my mad dash I nearly ran headlong into my Aunt Maria, but I was beyond caring, her words drowned out as my panic rose. I had to find my stepmother. I had to find someone who would tell me that everything would be ok. I needed to wake up from this nightmare._

_I found Renee, Sophie and my stepmother in the auditorium watching the opera's rehearsal. They were laughing and joking quietly together, but when my stepmother caught sight of my face her smile vanished. When I told her Madeline had fallen in the kitchens she rose instantly and ran past me, my stepsisters and I following close behind._

_By the end of the evening half the opera house was in Madeline's tiny bedroom. A doctor had been sent for, but none had arrived, and none would till morning._ _I alone knew what had struck my darling Madeline, and I told no one._

By the time I finally reached my bedroom door, I was weeping uncontrollably. I didn't want to fall asleep only to find that Madeline had died during the night. Wiping my eyes with my sleeve I stumbled into my dark room. I didn't even bother to light a match or change out of my dirty dress, I just curled myself into a tight ball on my bed, tears continuing to fall down my cheeks. I must have laid there weeping for hours, but slowly, despite all my efforts, I fell into a restless sleep.

A low scraping sound caused me to jump, hitting my arm roughly on my bedpost. Hissing in anger and pain I looked up to see a dark shape moving slowly towards my small desk. I watched in silence as the figure opened my matchbox and lit a small taper, illuminating a powerful form. Despite myself I gasped. Erik looked over at me questioningly, as if it was perfectly normal for someone to walk out of a wall and strike a match for a light.

For a few minutes we just stared at one another, until I reluctantly broke the silence.

"Couldn't sleep either?" My voice sounded strange to my ears, and I quickly cleared my throat. But Erik only paced over to his usual chair, his gaze never leaving me.

"I never sleep." He replied simply, his tone silky.His glove reached out to grab a book that I had left on my dresser. His fingers caressed the cover slowly before he opened the pages. I narrowed my eyes. _What is he playing at? _As the silence deepened between us, I moved my gaze over to the small clock that sat on my night stand.

"Erik it's nearly four in the morning, what on earth..." But his velvet voice interrupted me.

"Your Aunt and Cabartte have decided to go to a nearby coffee house for a midnight chat. I need someone to find out what they're up to, and since I've been marked as a murder and God knows what else, you seem to be my only option."

"You thought _what?_" My rage was uncontainable. "You thought that I'd want to do your God-damn spying on a night like this? There's no way in hell I'm going out there Erik. How dare you even suggest such a thing! My stepsister is _dying_ and all you can think about is your own selfish interests!" I had risen from my bed, my hands clinched in fists at my sides and my whole body was trembling with anger. _How dare he even entertain such a thought!_

Erik, however, merely smiled. His casual reaction stunned me, and he seemed to find my new reaction even more humorous.

"No Lizzy, I didn't think you'd take my request calmly, however," his lips curled into a cruel smirk, "it might not be beneficial to your person if you don't do as I say."

I collapsed on the edge of my bed as his words washed over me. Hot tears began to fall down my face but I wasn't about to let him bully me any further tonight.

"You're an absolute _monster _Erik, how..." But I never got a chance to finish.

Erik moved with an alarming speed from his chair and grabbed my arms with brutal force, lifting me from my bed. I whimpered softly as his dexterous fingers wrapped themselves like steel around me. I could feel his breath coming through his clenched teeth in low pants. Terrified, I slowly tilted my face up to his.

"Erik...please...stop...Erik..." My voice broke as I pleaded with him. Then just as suddenly as his rage had come upon him, it seemed to dissipate. His eyes melted into a rich gold and his grip relaxed on my arms.

"Forgive me." His words formed slowly, but he didn't let me go. Despite myself I could feel my heart begin to pound at an alarming rate. _Please don't let him hear._

His eyes studied my face with a surprising tenderness. Then he shoved me gently away from him.

"Lizzy...I..." It was the first time I'd ever seen him grasping desperately for words. He seemed to be falling apart at the seams and I instinctively reached out for him, but he leapt away from my touch.

"Don't. You're correct in your assessment of me Lizzy." He smiled bitterly at me, his sensual lips curling wickedly. "I _am _a monster." With a small bow to me, his fingers quickly activated the switch on my wall and he melted into the darkness.

"Erik! Erik wait!" I called, desperate to comfort him, but the panel shut me off. I collapsed onto my floor in a heap. "Erik..." As his rich sent dissipated slowly from the room I buried my face in my hands, desperate to find a reason to hate him.

He wanted me to spy on the very people I wanted to avoid. He seemed to put me in physical danger whenever he was near. He held me captive to his every whim, and, whether he knew it or not, and despite all my efforts, I had given him my heart.

_This is insane. _

I forced myself to rise. My whole body was aching and I was mentally exhausted but I knew had to do this. I glanced about the room for my shawl; I would need it in the bitter cold that raged outside the walls of the Opera Populaire. Once I had the thick woolen fabric bundled tightly on my throbbing arms I made my way out into the darkened hallways once more.

Just as before, it was deathly quiet and long shadows seemed to reach for me as I raced towards the auditorium. I knew that if I used one of the back doors then my presence might go undetected. But first I needed to find the steps that led up to the stage. I fumbled clumsily through the plush chairs as I made my way slowly toward the Orchestia pit. Then, finally I found a step, but I hadn't been counting on them being so close together.

My body went sprawling painfully across the inky stage, and I froze in fear, praying to every God that I knew that no one heard my fall. But of course someone did.

I could smell him as he walked over to me, the thick aroma of fine liquors and candle smoke. _Erik. _His hands were tender as he helped me to my feet and I could feel his gaze raking across my form.

"What are you trying to do Lizzy, wake the whole building?" His tone was suppressed but I could still hear the laughter behind it.

"Erik, I don't believe that you're a monster. Mind, you're one of the most selfish creatures I've ever had the pleasure of knowing..." His gloved finger rested for a moment on my lips, and I instantly snapped my mouth shut. Despite what he wanted me to do, I wasn't finished yet.

"I've decided to take up your little challenge." I said softly my eyes peering up at where I thought his face would be. For a long time there was silence, he seemed to be digesting what I said slowly.

Then I felt his fingers clutch my shawl, rolling the fabric over his leather glove. "This is much too thin..." His voice was rich and I hear his gentle breathing near my ear. Then I heard a swish of fabric cut through the air and I felt a heavy weight fall around me. My senses took in his intoxicating sent as his cloak fell about me.

Now it was my turn to find myself speechless. _He had given me his cloak. _I shrugged the thick fabric close to me, enveloping my body.

"Erik..." I began, but his gloved hand tilted my face toward him. I felt his warm body move closer to my own and I trembled with a heady mixture of anticipation and desire. His fingers tenderly cupped my cheek and I knew that his eyes were appraising me.

"Be careful Lizzy." His long fingers stroked my face one last time, and then he was gone.


	40. The Mission

**A/N:**

**I deeply apologize for the delay in this chapter. Work and my jury summons took over everything. **

**I am still looking for a beta reader, so if anyone is intrested my e-mail address is posted on my profile (since it didn't post on the author's note). Please Read and Review and I hope to have the next chapter up by Sunday night.**

**Special thanks to Victoria Venom and Hot4Gerry for reviewing! **

**Elizabeth**

My footsteps echoed dully against wooden floor of the stage as I made my way over to the small back door. This particular exit was seldom used, and therefore my best option if I wanted my presence to go unnoticed. The darkness was always more oppressive in this part of the building and I began to rely more on my hands then my eyes. Finally, my trembling fingers made out the rough wooden frame. Gasping with relief I lifted the latch and let myself out into the night.

A biting wind hit my exposed face sharply. Gritting my teeth I bundled Erik's thick cloak tighter against my thin shoulders. A misting rain poured down from the inky skies, coating everything it touched in a deadly layer of black ice.

Despite the bleak weather conditions there were still a few people bravely weathering the elements. The young milk lad Peter was walking cautiously across the square, and a baker moved his cart to its usual spot, his shoulders squared defiantly against the wind and rain. As I watched the town slowly come to life I steeled myself for the difficult task that lay ahead of me.

I could see the small coffee house where Aunt Maria and Cabertte had arranged to meet glowing warmly; and with a small sigh I carefully made my way across the ice coated streets.

After a few stumbles I finally reached my destination. This particular coffee establishment was by far the ritziest in town and it didn't surprise me that they would come here for a private discussion away from the crowded Opera Populaire. Renee and I had ventured here only once, and after that visit we'd vowed never to return.

Renee had wanted to try something different from our usual coffee haunt and I had readily agreed. But right when we sat down at one of the plush red benches I had a hunch that we wouldn't be staying for an extended visit. Before we even had a chance to order, the mistress of the establishment had come over to our table and briskly asked us to gather our belongings and leave. As we'd discovered soon after, we didn't travel high enough in society to eat even the lowliest coffee cake baked there.

Brushing my memories aside, I peered cautiously into the front window. The owner was the first person to greet my narrowed eyes. Her be-speckled face caused her to look very much like an old owl and her hunched back only added to the illusion. Her hands moved swiftly over a small collection of francs that rested on the counter, and she only shifted her attention to glace over at a booth that lay towards the back of the coffee house. My head instinctively followed her gaze. By rising myself slightly on my haunches I could just make out my Aunt Maria's bright pink hat. Somehow I had to get close enough to hear them. _But how?_

Luckily, the elderly maid who was serving them a fresh pot of coffee answered my question. With a small bow she turned and walked into a small room just a few feet from where they were sitting. _Perfect._

I rose slowly from my crouched position and began to walk along the side of the coffee house, looking for any other entrance. I didn't have to look long. There, only slightly out of my reach was a small window. With any luck it would lead directly to the room that the maid had gone in.

A small chestnut tree grew only a few inches from the window, no doubt shading the room from the bright sunlight during the summer. _It must be a storeroom. _

From the looks of it this tree was going to be my only hope of sneaking into the building; and the last thing I wanted to do was ruin Erik's fine cloak. Reluctantly, I slid the thick fabric off, my body trembling in the extreme cold. Carefully folding the cloak, I placed it gently in a nearby bush, hoping that it would be safe for a few minutes.

Thank God I was raised in a house with three older brothers. Scaling trees and fences was second nature to me and I swung myself easily up into the branches. Now came the task of somehow attaching myself to the window.

I scooted as close as I dared to the edge of the branch and calculated how best to scale the small distance. The only option that I could easily see was to become a human bridge, my feet on the tree, hands on the window. I hitched my heavy skirts up against my thighs, said a small prayer then placed myself in the hands of fate.

My palms roughly gripped the bottom of the windowpane and instantly I could feel my skin ripping open. Muffling my cry of pain I gingerly lifted one of my hands to open the window. The wooden frame slid up without even the slightest squeak of protest and I let out a long gasp of relief. But first I needed to check on the state of my palms.

I leaned slowly back into the comforting branches and brought my hands to my face. Deep gashes welling with blood greeted me. I grabbed them hem of my skirts and ripped loose some of the thick fabric to put a temporary end to the steady stream of blood. Once I was sure the cuts were properly protected I crawled back to the end of the branch.

The open window was only a few inches from me, but I knew I had to act quickly; Cabartte and Aunt Maria could depart at any moment, or someone would walk into the room and spot me attempting to climb in.

Once again I pushed my hands onto the window and edged myself slowly onto the frame. Luckily there was a low counter directly below the window and once my feet reached the frame, I lowered them onto the surface. Instinctively, moved my body into a crouching position, my eyes and ears straining to pick up anything they could.

As far as I could tell, my hunch about the window leading to a storage room of sorts had been dead on. Everything seemed to be coated in a fine layer of flour and the rich sent of coffee filled my senses. The door leading to the main room was only a few feet away and I had my pick of coffee barrels to hide behind.

I stepped down off the counter as quietly as I could and hastily made for the door. I pressed my ear against the cool wood and listened. Cabertte's honeyed voice was whispering lowly to Aunt Maria, and to my delight I could clearly hear every word.

"Now Maria, to business! There is much to go over and not as much time as I would like. Let's get one last pot of coffee and begin."

I could hear him calling for the maid and I quickly ducked down behind one of the larger barrels. And not a moment too soon! As my head cleared the top of the barrel the small storeroom was flooded with light from the main room. I hunched myself down as compactly as I could while the maid retrieved some coffee beans and a small pitcher of cream.

I peered cautiously around the barrel and watched as she propped the door with her heel so she could exit carting her goods safely in her arms. As soon as she had moved out into the room I halted the door with my hand, leaving it an inch from the doorframe. Noticing a small hunk of brick near my feet I quickly propped the door open. I leaned forward so I could just see the side of Aunt Maria's face.

"Ah! The coffee! Now, on to our great plan!" Cabarette's low voice boomed like silken caramel around the room.

"Indeed! Now about my darling Aloysia…" Aunt Maria began, her many chins quivering as she sipped her small coffee cup, but Cabertte didn't give her a chance to finish.

"In good time my dear, in good time. For the moment we have much bigger fish to fry. This damned Phantom is causing more trouble then he's worth. He still has DePerix under his thumb and apparently still believes that he can sway your good opinion away from me! Well he has much to learn! Now the note, if you please." His tone sounded much more agitated then usual, his words losing their silken quality. But this pompous man had much to learn if he thought he could outwit Erik at his own game.

"I have it here, but I must say on my own behalf, that I would never dream to take any opinion but yours." I felt myself cringe as Aunt Maria leaned closer to Cabarette, her bejeweled fingers taking hold of his. Cabartte seemed to have the same reaction I did, but he was much more adept at concealing it. He swiftly drew his hand from hers and leaned further against his plush chair.

"Of course Maria! I never doubted you for a moment my dear, but they say this Phantom has many ways of pulling people to him, willing or not. Now, the letter if you please." His smooth voice was brimming with impatience and his fingers began to drum the edge of the table with an alarming force.

Aunt Maria finally seemed to sense that Cabartte was getting agitated and pulled the cream letter from her reticule and handed it across the table. Cabartte snapped the wax death head back and quickly scanned the contents before tossing it back with a bark-like laugh.

"So he means to bring you back to him by saying that I might ruin your daughters' chances? Pah!" His fist hit the table roughly and the coffee pot teetered dangerously near the edge.

It was a smart move on Erik's part to play up on my aunt's instinct to protect Aloyisa's interests, but it seemed to me that Cabarette had offered something much more tempting to Aunt Maria; and her alliance was not cheaply bought.

"We'll see how clever he is once we have our singer back in the opera house again. Her husband believes that this is her final chance to sing as she once did and that is the card that we shall play. Once we have her in our power then he will be forced out of hiding. It will be like shooting fish in a barrel!" Cabarette's deep laugh descended into a manic giggle, his face contorting ominously.

My gasp came too quickly for me to muster it. I clasped my hands over my mouth tightly and hunched closer to the coffee barrel. But he had heard me.

"What was that?" His voice was laced with danger, and I could hear him push his chair back and rise.

"I didn't hear anything…" Aunt Maria began, her chair scraping the wooden floor painfully.

"Most likely nothing." Cabarette said, his footsteps halting only a few feet from the propped door. "No matter, I must get back to Emily. No doubt she'll be wondering where I am and I do hate my quarrels with her."

I could hear their footsteps fading into the distance, then the light doorbell tinkling sweetly as they made their way into the pre-dawn chill. Trembling with nerves I collapsed quietly onto the floor. _How could this be possible? Could their plan be so…simple? Oh, but they were playing on his one weakness with ruthless and deadly skill. Is there any way to stop them?_

I pulled myself against the wall and buried my head in my hands, tears beginning to pour silently down my face. _Oh Erik! _

There was no way I could tell him. How could I? If I told him his beloved Christine was coming back then there would be no stopping him. His cunning mind would think of a way to capture her once more and he would be gone to me forever.

_Was this selfish? To want him for myself, to not want to loose him to someone who did not love him the way I did?_

Suddenly my frenzied thoughts were interrupted by a small shuffle of feet outside the door. _Stupid Lizzy! Why not stop and think outside where it was safe? _

Cursing myself I dashed recklessly back to the window and pulled myself back onto the tree. My hands were burning with pain but I didn't have anytime to loose. I clambered down the branches until I reached the safety of the ground. Just in time, I ducked into the clump of bushes, pulling Erik's cloak with me.

I could see the owner stick her small head out of the window and peer into the darkness. I prayed that she wouldn't notice my blood stains on the wood, but she merely sniffed contemptuously and slammed the window back down.

Not wanting to dally a second longer I gathered Erik's cloak about me and ran as fast as I dared back to the opera house and relative safety.

The stables were still deserted and only a few of the horses were stirring in their stalls when I entered the yard. I paused for a moment to catch my breath. The bitter cold air burned my lungs and I coughed as softly as I could, my breath making thin puffs of mist. Then I heard the loud whinny from one of the back horse stalls. I dashed into a nearby stall, my heart threatening to pound its way out of my chest. Luckily the pin held old Josephine the even-tempered mare. She only batted her long lashes at me before returning to her hay bale. With a small laugh, I patted her flank.

Unsurprisingly, it was Cabartte who had pulled his spirited bay from its stall. The large stallion threw his head dangerously from side to side but Cabarette had him firmly under control. With a loud clambering of hooves on stone he rode out into the square, his rich purple cape billowing behind him. Once I deemed it to be safe once more, I made my way slowly to the entrance to the kitchens.

It was still dark in the massive room when I entered, but I quickly got a fire started and put on a pot of tea. I made my way over to one of the counters and sat Erik's massive cloak tenderly on it. I glanced out one of the windows and watched as the first rays of sunlight began to appear over the horizon. So much had happened in such a short period of time. I turned to sit on one of the high chairs only to find Erik leaning against one of the far walls.

I was too exhausted even to be startled. "What is it now? Not another task I hope?"

He didn't even dignify my questions with a remark, he just continued to stare, his deep eyes boring into me, mask flashing wildly in the dim firelight. He looked so powerful and deadly. _How could anyone think they could take this man down? _

With a sigh I sat cautiously down in a nearby chair. "Would you like some tea Erik?"

To my surprise he answered me. "No sugar, only cream."

"You're just the perfect gentlemen aren't you?" I snapped sarcastically as I made my way over to the fireplace and poured him a cup of steaming tea. I paused by the large table that separated us. He was still standing tensely against the wall, his eyes flickering over the small room warily. "Would you like to sit down?" I asked softly, making one last stab at civility.

He seemed to be visibly taken aback by my question. When he saw my growing smile he moved a chair back and sat roughly in it. I handed him the hot cup and made to pull away, but my hand was caught in his gloved fingers. I watched, mesmerized as his dexterous hands unraveled my bandages with undeniable tenderness.

"How did you manage to get yourself into this scrape Lizzy?" His voice was so silky and comforting, it completely enveloped my senses for a moment.

"I…I had to climb into the coffee house from a nearby tree." I said shakily, my eyes darting up to his bowed head. His rich ebony hair was slicked back smoothly and his mask stood out in stark contrast. Suddenly, he raised his deep blue eyes to meet mine. I could feel my breath catch in my throat and I swallowed hastily.

"_You_ climbed a tree?" His laughter was clearly evident in his musical voice and I could feel my face redden.

"I was raised by men my entire life Erik, the only way I could keep up with my brothers was to do as they did. Yes, I climbed a tree. I also managed to hear the information that you so desperately needed." I snapped, trying desperately to hide my embarrassment.

Erik rose from his chair and pulled a cleaning rag from an upper cupboard. He paused for a moment before the fire and poured a small amount of water from the kettle on the cloth then returned to where I was standing.

"Let me see your hands." His voice was so soft I had to ask him to repeat himself.

"I asked if I could see your hands, unless you want your wounds to become infected." His eyes blazed down to me, daring me to tell him no. Wordlessly, I sat in his empty chair holding out my palms.

Placing the warm rag on the counter he removed one of his gloves. It took all of my self-control not to gasp. It was the first time I'd ever seen Erik's hands without his thick leather gloves. His fingers were _beautiful_. The skin was a pearly white that glistened in the dim light and I found myself mesmerized as they moved back to my chapped hands.

"Hold still." He said as he reached for the cloth once more. But as he turned back to me, it was evident that he was hesitant to touch me. His long fingers hovered near my palms for what seemed like and age, my eyes never leaving his hands. Then he seemed to gather his nerve, and this time I couldn't contain my gasp of breath.

His fingers were like ice, but his touch had me trembling with something much more. Erik seemed to react to the same sensation and his eyes met mine questioningly. The deep blue shimmed with a light that I'd never seen before and I could feel my body edging slowly toward his. As soon as he noticed my movement he jerked back, but his eyes roved over my face slowly.

I arched my eyebrow and smirked at him. "Do you think I'm going to bite?"

His answering glare silenced any other snide remark that I might've had. His fingers closed over mine roughly and I cried out in pain. He loosened his grip but his gaze never left mine. In one swift movement he cleaned out the deep cuts and re-bandaged them with a clean rag.

"Now, what have you managed to learn, and I do hope it's worth my while Lizzy." His tone made it very clear that this was no time to josh around with him.

"They are planning on bringing in a new singer." I said softly, praying that I would be able to successfully hide the truth from him.

"From where?"

"Italy I believe."

He grinned softly, but his smile never reached his eyes. "Italy? What is their purpose my dear? Italian singers don't come at a small price."

"To lure you out." I said simply and my answer seemed to take him by surprise. I sighed softly, not wanting to go into too many details. "Erik, they want to see if you will make the same mistake you made with…Christine…" I shrunk back instinctively when Christine's name escaped my lips.

But Erik didn't even seem to notice. "No one will be her. They will fail."

I pursed my lips at his cavalier remark. Somehow I was going to have to warn him.

"I would be cautious if I was you Erik. This could spiral out of control. Cabarette made it very clear he wanted to take you as a trophy."

Erik's eyes met mine questioningly, but he didn't seem too concerned. "I've been hunted all my life Elizabeth. This won't be the first time, nor will it be the last."

"Just be careful, I would hate for something to happen to you." The instant the words were out of my mouth I regretted them. Erik retreated swiftly to the other side of the kitchen his whole body humming with frustration. He turned to me one last time as his re-gloved hand flipped the switch on the mirror.

"Your sister has made it through the night. She seems to have the strength to fight this illness yet."

Instantly I moved into action, slamming down my teacup and running to the kitchen doors. _Madeline might still make it! _But Erik's voice halted my headlong flight.

"Thank you Elizabeth."

I turned back to him swiftly, question written all over my face. _Had I heard him correctly? _I didn't say anything, thinking it best for him to explain his comment without my input.

For the first time in our entire acquaintance Erik looked positively, uncomfortable. With a small, reassuring smile I waved aside his thanks.

"I would have been awake for the rest of the night regardless, at least this gave me something to put my energies into."

Erik's tense frame relaxed and he nodded at my words, clearly wanting to end the conversation with his dignity intact. But I had one last thing to say to him.

"Please be careful Erik."

His eyes met mine, their blue depths unfathomable. For a moment he seemed to contemplate walking back toward me, but without a word he slunk back into the dark passageway; leaving me alone in the room once more.


	41. Slow Recovery

**A/N:**

**I want to say a special thanks to all of the reviewers for the last chapter: Hot4Gerry, Mlle.Fox, DollyMillionare, and iheartsadpandas. Thanks so much for your support :)**

**I hope to have the next chapter up next weekend, but this next chapter is going to change everything about this story and move it in a completely new direction, and I want to be sure it's absolutely perfect; so please bare with me and any delays that might happen. I promise it's coming soon! **

**Enjoy and R&R!**

**Elizabeth**

Somehow, Madeline pulled through. According to my stepmother, who watched over her all night long, she fought long and hard for her life, until she finally fell into an exhausted sleep. Madeline slept for the better part of the next four days; when she was awake it was only for a few moments, and only long enough to swallow some nutrients. I could hardly bring myself to leave her bedside. I moved through my daily chores in a haze for the next week. The laundry quickly began to pile up and soon everyone in the opera house was calling for my blood, but all I could think about was Madeline.

But, Madeline surprised us all with her will to pull out of this illness. My stepmother felt sure that God had answered our prayers, but I knew that Madeline's recovery would be short lived. Though she finally managed to pull herself out of bed, you could tell that she was severely weakened. Madeline had never been a gregarious child, but she now seemed less inclined to even be near other people that she didn't know. Once, a new stagehand came into the kitchens for an early morning coffee, and poor Madeline cowered in absolute terror behind my stepmother until he left.

One morning, while I was giving the stage a good scrub down, I saw Madeline out of the corner of my eye walking up the narrow steps to the stage. She was pulling herself up each step by clinging tightly to the wall and a fine sheen of sweat had broken on her forehead at the effort. I began to rise but I felt a strong hand still me.

I looked up to see the stern face of Madame Giry. Her eyes were trained intensely onto Madeline, but her gaze was extraordinarily tender. She suddenly released my shoulder and moved swiftly to my frail stepsister.

"My dear this is no place for you. You need to be resting in bed." Madame Giry's voice never seemed to lose its sharp quality, but I could still hear the emotion behind her words. Despite her ingrained fear of evoking Madame Giry's anger, Madeline was determined.

"I want to watch the other dancers Madame. I promise I'm well, I feel much better then I did yesterday!" Madeline's voice was so frail I could barely make out what she was saying.

"I know you do, but you need to rest. You are not well Madeline." This time Madame Giry's tone made it perfectly clear that she would not tolerate any defiance. But I could understand how Madeline felt. Despite her painful shyness she still hated to be alone and she'd been confined to her room for days.

"Madame Giry," I began hesitantly. "I don't believe that she will be overexerting herself if she watches." I waited on bated breath for her answer, my eyes lowered to the steaming bucket of water at my feet.

Madame Giry didn't say anything, and I could feel her blue gaze piercing though me. But, when she spoke again her voice resigned.

"Very well. Elizabeth will you find her a chair?"

Madeline gasped softly and the smile that she gave me warmed me to my fingertips. I helped her across the stage to the small chair I had placed next to the ballet rats and she gave me a long hug before she sat.

"Thank you Lizzy! Thank you so much!"

I smiled softly at her, my heart torn between joy and infinite sadness.

"Don't worry dearest. Now just relax and try not to move around too much." I lightly kissed the top of her head before I returned to my work. I took my time on the stage that day, not wanting to be far from her. Ever so often I would glance over to where Madeline was sitting and each time she was leaning forward in her chair, her feet tapping out Madame Giry's cane beats in perfect synchronization. She wanted to be out there with the other girls so badly you could read it all over her body. I felt my heart tug roughly at my chest and a small group of tears fell slowly down my face. _Why her? Why did it have to be Madeline? _

The weeks seemed to drag by so slowly. For over fourteen days I'd heard nothing from Erik, and it had me terribly on edge. There were no notes, no mysterious shifting lights, no midnight visits, absolutely nothing. Not for the first time did I wonder if he had simply left the opera house; I'd now learned that with Erik even the impossiblewas possible.

Everything at the opera house seemed to shift into a slow lull. The chores became mundane, the music coming from the stage soon grated on my last nerve, and I desperately craved for something _new _to happen. And despite everything I tried to tell myself to the contrary, it seemed like the calm before a mighty storm. Something was bound to happen soon and I had a deep seeded feeling that it wasn't going to be good.

This Saturday had proven to be another dull day, and I had escaped to the stable yards to catch some of the last small rays of winter sunlight for the freshly washed laundry, when everything was turned topsy-turvy. All of the commotion seemed to be coming from the front steps of the opera house but I knew it would be strange for me to just leave my work to investigate, so I decided to finish hanging the clothes before I ventured closer to all of the excitement.

I was buried in the wicker laundry basket when I heard Sophie's frantic calls. I didn't even bother to look up.

"I'm over here Sophie!" I called, my fingers deftly stretching a pair of shirts over the line.

"Lizzy, Lizzy come quick! The new singer! She's here!" Instantly, I gave my stepsister my full attention.

"Singer? What are you talking about Sophie?" I could feel my heart beginning to pound its way out of my chest. _Good God, when I said things were lackluster that didn't mean I wanted the whole world to topple down about me just for laughs!_

"She's new! She's really pretty Lizzy! Come on!" Sophie was franticly tugging on my arms.

"Alright, I'm coming Sophie, please leave my arm in the same condition that you found it." I grumbled as I allowed her to pull me through the stable yard and into the kitchens. All I could think about as we dashed through the labyrinth of hallways was Erik. What if I've lost him?I didn't think that I could even begin to live in a world where he had another, willing or not. _Please God don't let this be her!_

I was so lost in my wild jumble of thoughts that I completely forgot to pay attention to where I was going. Suddenly, I felt myself bumping roughly into a warm chest. Momentarily stunned I quickly backed up and began to apologize profusely.

"I'm dreadfully sorry! I wasn't even looking, I…" But I stopped the instant I saw whom I'd clumsily ran headlong into. I found myself gazing into the icy eyes of DePreix's nephew.

"It's quite alright Mademoiselle Brett, it's quite alright! I assume that you were trying to meet our new singer from Italy. I've heard that she is one of the best altos in the world!" His voice was filled with gentle laughter, his blue eyes sparkling down at me.

"From Italy?" I asked bewildered. _Hadn't I made that up to appease Erik?_

"I tried to tell you that Lizzy!" Sophie said her hand still tugging on mine. "If we don't hurry we won't get to see her at all!"

DePerix's nephew laughed heartily at my stepsister and bent down on his haunches to address her.

"Why don't you run on ahead little one? We'll be right behind you." He grinned encouragingly and took her hand from mine. Sophie was completely won over by his overflowing charms and gave her assent by dashing on ahead of us without a second glance.

Once Sophie had rounded the corner he rose, his eyes sending shivers down my spine. His jet-black hair was ruffled slightly and he looked so _handsome_, but there was something that didn't seem right, and it filled me with apprehension. I wasn't sure that I liked being alone with him in this remote part of the opera house. He seemed to sense my growing unease and moved back, still the perfect gentlemen.

"It's been a long time since I've run into you Mademoiselle Brett and I must say I'd quite forgotten how beautiful your eyes are." He stated simply, his smile pure sugar. I found myself blushing fiercely.

"Oh come now! Don't tell me that no one has told you that before!" He laughed. Before I could even think of a reply I heard loud footsteps approaching us. Instinctively, I made to peer over his shoulder, but to my surprise he stepped into my line of sight. I quickly shifted my attention to him, my eyes narrowing in suspicion. I could hear the footsteps growing closer and now could make out Aunt Maria's high-pitched voice.

"We'll have it all settled in a moment Monsieur. Cabartte's private office is just a few more feet away and I'd hate for you to miss my sweet meats, I made them especially." Her voice was simpering, she never used that tone with anyone, and I knew that it was imperative that I found out who they were talking to. I made to move toward them but once more DePerix's nephew stepped in my way.

"If you don't mind Mademoiselle, I would like to ask you a question about a particular English phrase that I've been struggling with." He smiled warmly at me, and for a moment I lost my train of thought.

"What is it Monsieur DePerix?" I asked, my attention torn.

"It's a bit too noisy here," he stated, motioning towards the approaching voices. "Let's go somewhere more private, the roof perhaps?" He placed his arm out towards me and without thinking I linked mine to his.

"I've never been to the roof." I stated warily, turning one last time, but all I could see was the back of a blonde haired man entering Cabartte's office. I felt a hand lightly touching my neck and I whipped my head toward DePerix.

"The view is delightful." He said simply as his hand touched my cotton cap, his fingers gentle. I nodded silently. _What have you gotten yourself into now Lizzy_?

The promised view was beyond spectacular. All of Paris was laid out before my eyes, a glistening gem in the dusky sunset. Everything was bathed in a beautiful orange glow. I could see the famous Notre Dame cathedral gleaming, as its mighty bells rang the hour to the city. The city _de amore_ was showcasing all of her charms to their best advantage.

"Lovely isn't it?" DePerix's low voice shook me violently from my revere.

"Yes…yes it is." I answered hesitantly, avoiding his peering gaze. "What phrase did you have a question about Monsieur DePerix?" I asked quietly, suddenly wanting to be as far away from him as possible. All of his charms were still intact, his smile was still just as warm but I could feel a thick tension filling the air around me.

"Please my dear Elizabeth, call me Luc." He said softly, his hand plucking mine from my side. Something was decidedly wrong.

"I wanted to know a phrase that is used all over the world to express…how shall I put it…admiration." His voice was husky now, and his fingers began to stroke my wrist.

"And that is? I hate to rush this, but I have chores that I need too…" I said quickly, pulling my hand away. But he moved faster then I did, he pulled me back to him swiftly. I arched my back to pull away. "Monsieur?" I asked, my voice a warning.

"How do you say _desire_ in English Elizabeth?" His eyes met mine suddenly and the blue was flashing dangerously.

"I'm afraid I can't help you there…" Before I could finish his lips slammed forcefully on to mine, his tongue roughly pushing my lips apart. His hands clasped me tightly to him and for a moment I was stunned. I don't think he expected my reaction to be so violent.

I jerked my body out of his grip and my hand hit the side of his face with a bruising force. Every fiber of my being was humming with my anger and I gritted my teeth as he turned his stunned face back to mine.

"You _bastard_!" I spit out through my clinched teeth. He moved toward me once more and I raised my hand in retaliation, daring him to risk it. Now it was his turn to become enraged.

"How dare you treat me in this fashion, you little bitch! You always fully reciprocated my attentions!" His voice was thick with anger but I was past the point of caring.

"How dare I? How dare you Monsieur! In no way have I ever given you any reason to believe that I wanted your advances. You must have been aware of this or why else lure me up here? Now let me pass." I made to shoulder my way past him but his hands grabbed me.

"I'd watch your back Elizabeth Brett, or better yet your pretty little neck." And with that I found myself unceremoniously flung onto the ground. My back hit the mortar roughly and I let out a small cry of pain but by the time I could look up DePerix was gone. Suddenly all of my emotions hit me head on as tears began to pour down my face. This was a dangerous game that I was ensnared in, with threats coming from every side and now there seemed to be no way out.

I don't know how long I was outside in the cold, the dusk had long since given way to the blanket of night, but soon my body was begging me to return to the warmth of my room. Slowly, I stumbled down the long hallways, pausing ever so often to replay the horrific events of the evening. After what seemed to be an age, I finally reached the relative safety of my room.

With a low creak the old wooden door swung open on its hinges and I stepped into the welcoming darkness. I should have known that something was amiss when Moppet didn't leap forward to greet me, but I was too lost in thought.

Then the thick sent of incense and brandy filled my senses. The next thing I knew a gloved hand was gripping my throat painfully, slamming me against the wall with a terrible force.

"Well, well, well…what do we have here." Erik's voice whispered harshly in my ear, his tone pure malice, and I could feel his steel grip slowly cutting of my access to air.


	42. Barriers

**Hello all :)**

**I'm so sorry it took me so long to post this story, but, like I said earlier I wanted to make sure it was as close to perfect as I could make it.**

**So please R&R and enjoy!**

**Special thanks to all of the reviewers: Passed Over, Victoria Venom, Mille.Fox, and Hot4Gerry!**

**Erik**

For a week I managed to avoid any contact with her. I buried myself deep in my cocoon; I remained locked away in my living quarters, trying to compose, trying to do anything that would let me forget my confused emotions. However, I've never been one to sit and wait. Impatience and boredom soon had me wandering above ground. I still kept a low profile, avoiding her as much as possible.

I knew that my emotions were wrong. For over three years I had been absolutely alone, of course I wanted _some _human contact. Now I just had to recheck my feelings. I didn't want her. I would neverwant her. Or, I would never let myself want her.

One evening I couldn't seem to settle myself down. I attempted to compose, but it was useless. Snarling with frustration, I threw my pen down with as much force as I could muster. It snapped in two the instant it hit the stone floor, the ink bleeding out rapidly. I began to pace across the floor, my anger slowly beginning to dissipate. A walk might just be beneficial; at the very least, it would give me something to do.

I swiftly grabbed up my cloak and replaced my mask. Finally, as a precautionary measure, I picked up my long Punjab lasso. Despite the legendary status that I enjoyed these days at the opera house, I've never felt safe without some means of protection.

I weaved my way slowly up through the many chambers that led to the ground level of the opera. My feet followed the paths instinctively and I allowed my mind to wander. After a few minutes I seemed to enter a trance like state, my mind hazy, and I wasn't paying any attention to where my treacherous feet were leading me.

I came back to my senses the instant she shifted in her sleep. _Good God! How did I come to be here? _Cursing myself, I made to return to my home, but something told me to remain where I was.

So it began. I avoided her by day, telling myself to ignore everything. Yet every night I returned to her bedside. My blood boiled with my pathetic _weakness_. There had to be some way to stop this! I felt like I would go mad.

Perhaps, I was only infatuated with her companionship. After all, she was the only person I could honestly call friend. She was open with me. And, she had proven that time and time again. Despite my threats on her family, even her person, she had never shunned my company.

I might even flatter myself that she was _attracted _to me. One night I had dared to touch her. I'm not sure what possessed me to do so. I had been working contentedly on a new score for my organ when I suddenly found my hand reaching for her. I watched transfixed as my fingers met her exposed arm. Her skin was smooth and warm beneath mine. She shifted and my hand jerked back. Instantly, I was prepared for flight. To my intense relief, she just buried her face deeper in her pillow, murmuring softly. But, Her words shook me to my core.

"Erik." She whispered, a small smile playing on her lips.

I gazed quizzically down at her sleeping form. I didn't understand why she would say my name. Nightmare perhaps? A mixture of emotions pumped through my veins, and I couldn't comprehend any of them.

_How dare she! That damned whore! _

I knew that I was over reacting. I knew that I was hurting her. But, I was beyond caring. She had betrayed me! And for that she deserved to die.

I had been tinkering with a small mechanism in one of the spare rooms, when I heard the flurry of excitement. Instinctively, I began to make my way towards the commotion. The vast majority of the opera house had gathered in the large gallery and at the center stood a tall woman. Her Grecian features clearly stated where she was from. _So, this was the new singer from Italy. _

I waited for a few minutes, before I began to make my way back down the passageway. I had no interest in hearing idle gossip and I doubted she would do an impromptu aria in the next few moments. As I walked past room after room, my ears caught another conversation. Lizzy's soft voice was talking rapidly. Immediately, I made my way towards her. _What has she gotten herself into now?_

I had installed vents in every hallway and I approached one that would let me see everything that was happening. My eyes peered out, scanning, until they landed on Lizzy. Her face was flushed and she was staring anxiously at her feet. DePerix's damned nephew was smiling gently at her and I could feel my blood begin to boil.

Then she smiled back. I could feel my rage beginning to bubble over, I had to move on quickly, but I was riveted to the spot. I barely noticed Cabaret and Maria walking down the hallway with a tall man. Instead, I followed Lizzy and Luc DePerix up onto the roof, my heart pounding raggedly in my chest. I hadn't ventured up here since _that _dreadful night.

I watched warily as the two of them walked around. Then DePerix was right on top of her. All I had to see was him leaning toward her and her body tilting to meet his. My rage flowed through me like lightning. Everything was bathed in a red tinge. _That conniving little bitch!_

I knew that she would return to her room at some point, and little did she know I would be lying in wait for her.

**Elizabeth**

His hands had me pinned tightly to the wall, his fingers slowly crushing my windpipe. Desperately, I tried to inhale enough air to cry out, but all I could manage was a raspy gasp.

But it had an effect. Erik instantly released me, and I collapsed onto the floor, my hands clutching at my bruised neck. My coughs came out in low hacks and I buckled over, trying to get as much air to my lungs as possible.

Between convulsions I managed to sneak a quick glace at Erik's pacing form. His jaw was clinched tightly and his whole body hummed with his rage. I realized then that he had seen DePerix kiss me. But that didn't explain this anger. Then he halted abruptly, the wooden floor shuddering violently.

His eyes met mine and I gasped aloud at the raw pain that shimmered in his steel blue gaze. He was visibly shaking. I had never seen him loose control like this. It frightened me beyond belief.

"_Why_?" He asked through clinched teeth, his tone rough and metallic.

But he hadn't counted on my own anger.

"Why what Erik? Why was I assaulted? If that's what you're asking then I'm afraid I can't answer you properly because even I don't understand it." I rose to my feet, my eyes narrowing dangerously. _How dare he! _

"Yes, you certainly seemed to be assaulted." He spat, his lips curling into a snarl.

"I didn't ask for this to happen! I had no idea he was going to kiss me! Did you not see me slap him? You bastard, you only see what you want to!" I snapped back, I was bordering on hysteria and I tried desperately to calm myself.

"I'm sure you didn't enjoy yourself my dear." He replied with a deadly whisper. But I had reached my breaking point.

"How dare you Erik! How dare you!" I raged up to him, my body slamming into his roughly. Immediately, he took a step back. I knew then that I had just made the biggest mistake of my life. The instant he realized that he had given way to me, his anger increased tenfold.

His body moved swiftly back to mine and this time I stumbled back. I had never quite realized exactly how much he towered over me until that instant. I looked up hesitantly at his face, and he smile wickedly at me, knowing that he had the upper hand once more.

"You're in _love _aren't you my dear?" He snarled, his voice sending shivers down my spine. I had no idea how to answer him; I just continued to glare up into his deep blue eyes. _Why couldn't this just be a dream? _

But Erik had seen my silence as an admission of guilt. His whole body seemed to fall into a slump and without a word he turned to leave me. I knew then that I had to tell him or I would risk loosing him forever. And a lifetime without Erik was too much for me to bear.

"Yes, I'm in love with someone Erik. I'm in love with…you." I whispered, my voice barely reaching my own ears. But Erik wheeled around violently. His gaze was dark and his face was contorted with his rage. In one stride he was in front of me once more, I his gloved hands grabbed my shoulders with a bruising force. He lifted me, as if I weighed no more then a feather, to his face.

"Tell me Elizabeth," he said loudly as his fingers cut into me. "Do you love me now?" My body was screaming with pain and I shuddered as he gripped me tighter. Somehow I managed to muster the strength to meet his gaze.

"Yes." I said forcefully through my gritted teeth, while every fiber of my body was crying out with agony. My answer stunned him. He dropped me unceremoniously to the ground, and I huddled myself into a small ball, rubbing my aching shoulders.

"Do you honestly think that you love _me_?" His voice was pained and despite myself I looked up at him. His face was tight with an emotion that I was terrified to name.

"Will you love me without the mask Elizabeth? No one has ever _loved _me without my mask." He spoke to me slowly, as if I wouldn't understand his words. But his tone was laced with malice.

Instinctively, I moved my gaze to the floor. But Erik was determined to hurt me, no matter what pain it cost himself.

"Look at me Elizabeth. Look at the man that you love." He spat. I raised my eyes slowly, and once my gaze met his, he flung his ivory mask to the floor with a roar.

One side of his face was that of an angel, but the other, was something that belonged to a demon. Blue veins peeked out of his parchment like skin, and I could see the tissue that ran beneath them. The place where the right side of his nose should have been was gone, only a gaping hole remained. The entire right side of his face appeared to be rotting before my eyes, the skin a fiery red. His cheekbone cut painfully into his skin, and the bone on his forehead was jagged. It was a terrible sight, one that made me want to run as far away from him as I possibly could.

My throat caught painfully, but somehow I managed to hold my composure. I was appalled, I was terrified, but I still loved him. Erik's beautiful eyes were blazing down at me, daring me to scream, to run. But once the initial shock of his face had passed I knew I had the strength to go to him. With a low sigh I slowly pulled myself to my feet.

**Erik**

I found myself rooted to the spot. When I threw my mask at her feet I had thrown down my last shred of security. Now she knew everything about me. And I knew that she would never dare to say that she loved me now.

I watched with a morbid satisfaction as her face blanched, her skin turning a deathly pale. And yet, she didn't scream. She was trembling but she didn't flee. In fact, to my utter dismay, she seemed to be collecting herself. Then she stood.

I thought that my heart would stop. She raised herself gingerly to her feet, her eyes never leaving mine, and slowly began to walk towards me. She paused for a moment, then one of her small hands reached out for me.

"Yes Erik," She began softly, her brilliant green eyes meeting mine warily. "I still love you." Her tiny hands cupped my face. I stiffened instantly, but she didn't seem to care.

I could feel the tremor in my body beginning to build and soon I was trembling forcefully. _This had to end. _Without a word I softly knocked her gentle hands away. I watched as her eyes filled with unshed tears. I felt trapped. I could feel bars coming down around me, strangling me. Swiftly, I raised my hand to cover my deformed face, turning from her.

With a small whimper, I heard her collapse onto the floor once more. I turned back to her slowly. I watched as she began to shake with her weeping. I had never felt more deserving of the word _monster_.

"Then you love me at your own peril." I said softly, and this time she didn't bother to look up at me. I watched as tears continued to fall silently from her down turned face. Despite everything thing I'd done to cause her harm she still professed that she loved me. I felt utterly torn between my treasonous emotions. Silently, I activated the switch on the wall, and slunk back down to my home to lick my wounds.


	43. A Task

**Elizabeth**

What was I supposed to do now? I had told Erik that I loved him. His response had hurt me deeply, but it hadn't surprised me. Soon after he left I managed to compose myself and find the strength to make a late-night visit to the kitchens. I made myself a pot of hot tea and tried to replay the events of the evening.

Despite all of my efforts, all I could remember was Erik's wounded face as he flung his mask to the ground. His eyes had looked at me dejectedly, his hands clutched tightly at his sides. He had fully expected me to scream or fall into a swoon just like everyone else who had looked upon his accursed face. And when I didn't, he decided to push me from him himself.

I sat in the kitchen for hours, only rising to put on a new pot of tea whenever my cup went dry. I gazed out the small window at the approaching dawn, my mind adrift. As I watched the first rays of sunlight dance over the clouds, I remembered that I was at least a week behind in laundry. Motivated, I drained my small teacup and slowly pulled myself up out of my seat.

The temperature in the laundry room was a good fifteen degrees cooler then the kitchens. Shivering, I picked up two large water buckets and hurriedly pumped them to the brim with water. Placing them roughly onto the fire to boil, I began to dig around under the counters for a bar of lye. My fingers finally grasped the huge mass of soap and I hoisted it over to the countertop. Once I had a good chunk cut out I pulled one of the steaming buckets off the fireplace and hurried back into the laundry room.

The hot steam rushed angrily past my face as I poured it into the large basin, and I hastily dropped my chunk of lye into the waiting water. As soon as I was sure that the soap was melting properly I hurried back to the kitchens to retrieve my other bucket. Slowly, I fell into the familiar routine; pouring bucket after bucket of boiling water into the laundry tub, my hands chafing from the heat, and a fine sheen of sweat breaking out across my forehead. Once I felt the tub was full, I pulled the first set of soiled shirts into the room.

I scattered them across the floor, sorting them into distinct piles. My fingers deftly picking through the different colors, my eyes double-checking my work, making sure that I had made no mistakes. As soon as I was satisfied with my sorting, I gathered up the first mass of clothes, quickly dumping them into the soapy water.

Reaching up I pulled down the long piece of wood that would help me to stir the clothes. The hot steam that rose from the tub scalded my face and arms, making me wince my eyes and grit my teeth. It was difficult to maneuver the clothes, but my arms were used to the task.

As I worked the morning sun began to peek further from the clouds, the bright golden rays dancing playfully around my feet. I worked in silence for hours, hastily pulling the laundry from the water and onto the lines that I had erected in the warm kitchen to dry, then beginning again on a new set of clothes.

I tossed another pile into the water and reached up for my stirring stick, only to have my fingers grasping at empty air. _Odd. I could have sworn I left it there. _

"Damn it." I cursed quietly, wiping my damp hands on my apron. I quickly retraced my steps from the kitchen, looking everywhere. It was nowhere to be seen. I rushed back into the laundry room; knowing full well that if I let the clothes sit in the soapy water for too long they would be ruined.

As I stepped down into the chilly room my eyes caught a sudden movement in a dark corner. There, just visible in the early morning light was the long stirring stick. My heart began to pound in my chest, I knew I hadn't been anywhere near that part of the room in the past few hours.

Suddenly the long stick fell nosily to the stone floor, clattering loudly. I gasped softly, my hands flying to my chest, but I held my ground.

"Who's there?" my raspy voice sounded like metal scraping across a floor.

For a moment my question was met with silence, then a soft rumble of laughter echoed around me.

He seemed to melt out of the darkness, his cape swirling magnificently around his broad shoulders. The deep laugher continued to bounce about the room, but his mouth was closed in a sensual smirk.

"I should have known." I muttered softly, trying to will my pounding heart to still. The stirring stick had fallen a good three feet from him and I rushed to pick it back up, keeping my eyes warily on him. Erik's blazing blue gaze followed my form, his face as unreadable behind his gleaming mask.

"Are such theatrics really necessary this early in the morning?" I asked him pointedly, moving back to the steaming laundry tub.

"If you consider that parlor trick, _theatrics_, then you're not as intelligent as I thought you were." Erik's tone was gentle, despite his sharp words, his voice as rich as velvet.

I pulled the clothes to the washboard roughly, and turned my head around to meet his gaze.

"Parlor trick or not, I don't think it's worth your while to waste time frightening me." I snapped, my eyes challenging him.

Erik merely looked at me his eyes running slowly over my face. Despite all my efforts I knew I was beginning to tremble with something that wasn't fear. Finally his icy blue gaze met mine and for a few moments we just studied one another. I could feel a thick heat begin to burn through me and unconsciously I licked my lips. Erik immediately followed the movement, his eyes resting on my lips then rising back to my face. His jaw had visibly clinched, his gloved hands moving into fists at his side. My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. Then he took a calculated step toward me, his eyes never leaving mine.

Then I broke the spell.

While Erik had stood across from me, my hand had slipped closer and closer to the steaming water, and without warning it fell in. I hissed loudly turning to yank my hand out of danger. I clutched my scalded hand to my chest, arching my body over and closing my eyes in pain.

Erik's gloved hand pulls me back up and took my scalded fingers in his.

"Stop whimpering!" He growled, turning my hand over roughly. I cried out in pain at the sudden movement. Erik's other hand instantly grabbed my jaw and pulled my face up to meet his.

"Silence!" he snarled, his eyes blazing.

"Don't move it like that!" I whispered violently, yanking my face away from his fingers.

"Be still!" Erik replied, turning his attention back to my injured hand. This time his fingers were more cautious as they touched my blistered skin. Without a word he grabbed a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and quickly bandaged my hand. As soon as the knot was secure Erik dropped my hand and moved swiftly away from me.

"Once you are finished I need you to go to the managers' room." Erik said, his voice rough.

I looked up at him, puzzled.

"The managers? But why?"

Erik began to pace, his feet echoing dully against the stone floor.

"They are planning something, something with…_Monsieur De Chagny._" Erik spat, his voice a deep snarl.

I could feel my face paling, I reached out to steady myself on the wall. _Good God._

"Are you sure it's the Vicomte?" I asked meekly, not wanting to enrage Erik anymore then he already was.

Erik turned on me, his face contorted in his rage. He grabbed my arms roughly pulling me up to his face.

"Do you think I wouldn't know that man!?" He yelled flinging me unceremoniously back to my feet.

I clutched at my upper arms, trying to ease the pain that his strong grip had caused. I didn't waste my breath answering him.

After a few minutes Erik began to calm down once more and his pacing slowed to a halt. I kept my eyes carefully on the stone floor as he neared me once more.

To my surprise, his gloved hands tenderly stroked my upper arms.

"Forgive me." He said quietly. I lifted my eyes up to his, trying to figure out this unfathomable man that I was foolishly falling deeper and deeper in love with.

"I will go to the managers, and I will find out what I can. But don't expect a miracle Erik, try to…" I stopped, trying to let my words be as tender as possible.

"Try to accept things." I finished, pulling myself out of his grip. Erik's arms fell by his side, his mind a million miles away. With a sigh I moved back to my work. By the time I had a handful of clothes ready to hang in the kitchen, Erik was gone.


	44. New Challenges

**Hello! Yes, I'm back, this time for good!**

**Before I issue my disclaimer on this chapter let me announce how I plan on handling chapter postings. Every Friday night I plan on posting a new chapter. **

**However, I am a full time student working two different jobs and some weeks that might not be possible. But, I don't want my hiatus to extend beyond 2 weeks for the duration of this story! Feel free to send me harassment e-mails!**

** Now for the disclaimer! I wrote this chapter several months ago and I've been wrestling with it since then, but I feel like this is the outcome that needs to happen. And, I've decided to change the rating of this story to "M." You = warned.**

**Thank you for the wonderful reviews Hot4Gerry and bastinterest! And don't worry, I promise I won't let you down again :)**

**R&R por favor!**

**Elizabeth**

The most daunting part of Erik's request wasn't that I needed to find out what the Vicomte DeChanyne was up to, oh no, it was that I needed to successfully spy on the managers and not get caught in the process. Not to mention the fact that this mission would place me in uncomfortably close quarters with Cabaret and DePerix. _And why on earth would Erik want me to spy on them when he could do it himself?_

The morning passed painfully slowly. At around seven most of the people in the opera house had risen, and I quickly busied myself with my other chores, barely saying a word to my stepmother or sisters. I knew that my behavior was harsh, but at the moment I was beyond caring. By the time noon came around I felt like the day was slipping through my fingers, and to add to my frustration, I still hadn't managed to come up with anything remotely resembling a plan. Honestly, I felt like breaking down and sobbing my troubles away.

So, as a means of distraction, I threw myself into my work. I mopped and dusted everything with an angry vigor, and heaven preserve anyone who got in my way. I was still moving forward mindlessly with the mop when I ran headlong into Meg.

"Oh goodness! I am sorry Meg, I didn't mean to hit you." I cried out in shock, pulling my mop closer to me so I wouldn't get her pink ballet shoes soaked.

"It's fine Lizzy, I shouldn't have snuck up on you." Meg laughed. "But mama told me to tell you that the managers are going out for a late lunch and DePerix wanted their suite cleaned."

"They're going out? Where are they going?" I asked trying to sound as nonchalant as I possibly could.

"I think to that new place down the street, oh what's it called, De Borodux? It looks fancy enough for the likes of Caberette, so I'd imagine that's why DePerix was so keen to go." Meg replied, rolling her eyes.

"Nothing is good enough for Caberette." I seconded, leaning on my mop. _So this is why Erik wanted me to spy on the managers. But how on earth did he know they were going out?_

"Oh well, at least they'll be out of the opera house for a few hours! What a relief it will be to not be eyed like a piece of meat!" Meg said, shaking her head. "I wish I had more time to talk Lizzy, but practice is starting." She reached out her hands for mine. "We really must get together again soon! I feel like I hardly ever see to you!" And with that she gracefully twirled off toward the stage.

I slowly began to push the mop across the floor again, making sure I gave every inch of the marble a good cleaning. Now that I knew where the managers were going I felt a wave of relief flood over me, but how on earth was I supposed to be in two places at once? _There has to be something that I can do._

Frantically, I gathered my mop and bucket up and ran as fast as I could to the manager's I dashed along the corridors I prayed against hope itself that De Perix had already decided to head to the eatery.

I slowed when I turned the final corner that would lead me to the gilded passageway that lead to the newly refurbished set of rooms. All of my senses were on edge, straining for any clue that Cabertte or De Perix might be lurking about.

But the hall was completely deserted.

Almost hysterical with relief I quickly deposited my cleaning supplies in a nearby room and dashed towards the main hallway. _This could be my only chance!_

Outside the sun was shining brightly through the chill spring air, giving everything in the square an ethereal glow. Everyone seemed to be out and about, enjoying such a lovely day. People were milling lazily about, and I had no trouble at all making my way through the crowds to De Borodux.

As Meg predicted it was by far the ritziest place in this part of Paris. The windows were made of finely crafted Venetian glass, the benches were wrought with the finest iron I'd ever seen, and there, sitting a few paces from the main causeway, were all of the managers and patrons of the La Populaire Opera House.

Cautiously, I inched my way along the side of the building, looking for anything to conceal myself behind. The only possible cover that I could see was a flower vendor selling out of his horse drawn cart. Carefully concealed behind a large wall of chrysanthemums I proceeded to browse and listen to the heated conversation that was taking place.

"I don't care what you have to do!" The Comte was shouting to De Perix, his angelic features strangely harsh. "Do whatever is necessary to ensure that she can return safely!"

"Monsieur! Monsieur!" Cabartte's tone wasn't distressed in the slightest by Roul's vehement outburst. "We must be patient! You are no stranger to how this man operates, even your attempt to capture him failed. We must plan this carefully, to insure that everything goes according to plan."

"Maria Mason and I have been working on a strategy for months and I'm not about to see it pulled to pieces because you want your wife returned to her former glory." Cabartte finished, lowering his fist ominously on the silken tablecloth.

"I am not debating the strength of your plan! But, I'm not about to put Christine in danger again! What if he decides to trap her? Or worse, kill her!" Raoul replied, his voice trying to hide his rising panic.

"Monsieur De Chagny," De Perix began, clearing his voice. "I want nothing more then to see this horrid man hung for his crimes. At the very least I want him out of my opera house. I believe that we are all aiming for the same outcome, but if we don't stop this mindless squabbling then we shall all lose on this gamble."

"I won't let her within a thousand feet of that building if he isn't gone!" Raoul seemed to be losing all of his nerve, his hands visibly trembling in his lap.

"But she must come back if we are to catch him!" Cabartte countered, his voice cutting off Raoul's next remark.

"I sincerely doubt that we can lure him out any other way! I have tried bribery, I have tried cutting off any access he might have to the outside world, but he always manages to slip through my fingers! I will have him gentlemen, even if I have to drag your pretty wife to the opera house myself." Cabartte rose suddenly, leaning his fists heavily on the table. "I won't lose him!"

"But Christine does not think he will let her go this time! She knows that she will meet her…" But Cabartte once more silenced Raoul.

"I _will _have him. And there's nothing a simpering young man like yourself can do about it. I will personally drag your name in the gutter if I have to. I've ruined men with higher stations then yours."

A heavy quiet fell over the table, and Cabartte returned to his seat, pulling a large cigar from his waistcoat pocket.

"Now, we will conclude the meeting for today gentlemen. But we will continue with all the necessary steps to put this plan into action tomorrow. Now if you will excuse me." And with that Cabartte lit his cigar and strode out onto the square, a thick cloud of smoke hovering over his shrinking back.

_Dear God almighty! This is worse then I could have ever dreamed it to be. _I didn't need any time to think it over, Erik had to be told about this plan.

As quickly as my feet could carry me, I dashed back over the cobblestones to the heavy mahogany doors of the Opera Populaire.

Once I was back in the marbled entryway I headed straight for my room. It was the only place that I could think of where I would have any hope of contacting Erik. I ran blindly down the labyrinth of hallways, dodging anyone who tried to halt me in my headlong flight. Even Renee's sudden appearance by the kitchens didn't slow me down.

"Lizzy! Where on earth are you going?" She called after me, her voice full of worry.

"I forgot something in my room! I'm fine! See you at dinner!" I yelled back, hitching up my skirts to try and urge my body to go faster.

Finally, I reached my door. I shoved my way inside, slamming the door heavily behind me, only to find it completely empty. There was no sign of Erik, only Moppet's frantic mews as she purred her way around my feet.

_Great. Just great. _I thought as I leaned forward, trying desperately to catch my breath. My ribs were heaving painfully against my corset, and a fine mist of sweat began to race its way across my brow. _Now what am I supposed to do?_

"Well, well. I take it the news was somewhat urgent?"

I wheeled around to see Erik lounging contentedly across my chair, his feet propped out in front of him, Moppet curling herself contentedly in his lap.

"Erik…how…did. I don't…understand…" I panted, my heart threatening to beat its way out of my chest.

He only smirked at my puzzlement, his mouth curling sensuously, his deep blue gaze flashing dangerously.

"What did you find out? I don't have all day, do try and compose yourself." He snapped, running his hand roughly over Moppet's sleek fur.

"Erik they mean to trap you!" I cried out, my breath catching in my throat.

"That's nothing new Lizzy," he stated simply, his tone frustrated, all the velvety smoothness disappearing.

"Fine. They're going to try and kill you. Is that new?" I demanded, my temper rising.

"Honestly Lizzy, did you find anything _useful _out?" Erik snarled, his gloved fingers clinching threateningly. "Everyone wants me dead. I would think that you would have had the intelligence…"

"They're trying to lure you out! Christine…" But I didn't get to finish. In a flash Erik had risen, Moppet flung out of his lap, hissing mincingly. He cornered me by my dresser, forcing me to brace myself against the cold wood for support.

"When?" He demanded, his face inches from mine.

"Erik, please…" I began, but his gloved hand moved to my throat, his fingers putting mild pressure on my windpipe, reminding me what he was capable of.

"I do _hate _repeating myself."

"Raoul won't let her come if you're still here. He wants to make sure that you're dead, he won't…" Swiftly, Erik applied a massive amount of force to my neck. My airway immediately closed, and my fingers clawed at his hand, only to be batted roughly away.

"When is she coming?" Erik asked again, his voice laced with rage, but he loosed his grip on my throat.

Tears began to stream slowly down my cheeks, and I collapsed against him. Erik immediately released me, letting me fall to my knees heavily. I sank roughly to the floor and pulled my knees to my chest, sobbing openly.

"Erik they are going to kill you!" I whispered through my tears.

"And what do you care?!" He shouted, his cape billowing about him as he paced up and down the room.

"I don't know what I would do if they…" I started. But Erik came and knelt down in front of me, he grabbed my chin roughly, forcing me to look at him.

"You would do nothing." He whispered, his teeth clinched in fury. And with that he jerked his hand away and walked over to the sliding wall, flicking the switch angrily. I was on my feet in an instant.

"Erik wait!" I cried watching him begin to disappear into the depths beyond my room. He tried to shut the mechanism again, but I was too quick for him. I flung myself after him tripping and stumbling into the inky blackness.

Before I could fall, Erik's strong grip forced me up against the slick stonewalls in the narrow passageway. The sliding wall began to close slowly, and I caught one more glimpse of Erik's enraged features before all was cloaked in darkness. For a moment he was silent, and all that I could hear was the dripping of distant water and my heavy breathing.

I broke the silence.

"I care Erik. Whether you want to believe that or not, I do care about what happens to you! If I didn't give a damn why would I have rushed back to warn you!?"

"I wouldn't do the same for you." He stated simply, and his words cut me to my core.

"Yes you would." I stammered, trying to ignore the small voice in the back of my mind that told me otherwise.

"You mean nothing to me." Erik growled, pushing me away from him.

I knew full well that he meant for that to silence me, I knew that he was intentionally hurting me, but I was beyond caring. My blood was boiling, pounding relentlessly in my ears. Somehow, I needed prove to him just how much he cared.

As I stood there, my eyes began to adjust slightly to the inky blackness and I could just make out his form in front of me. I knew what I wanted to do, but did I have the courage to do it? Before I could rationalize my way out of my decision, I acted on it.

"Do I Erik? Do I really mean _nothing _to you?" I asked, taking a deliberate step toward him. He didn't move. I moved closer, my heart beating wildly, but not from fear or hurt.

Step by step, I brought myself closer and closer to him, until we were mere inches apart. He smelled of rich tobacco and brandy, and I could feel his breath, warm, on my face.

"Can you honestly tell me that I mean nothing to you?" I asked again, tilting my face up to his, pushing my body against his until he bumped into the wall behind him. Finally, after so many months, I had him in _my _power, and I was going to take advantage of it. Raising myself onto my tiptoes to reach him, I gently pressed my mouth against his.

His lips were slack against mine and I instantly regretted this decision.

Immediately, I made to pull myself away, but before I could Erik's hands clamped onto the sides of my face. His lips met mine with a bruising force, and I surrendered to his rough ministrations.

**Erik**

All I could think about was getting myself as far away from her as possible. Then to my utter shock, somehow she managed to crowd me into the wall. I could see her clearly in the darkness, her green eyes dark and flashing, ensnaring me. Her lips met mine with such a sweet tenderness that I thought I might die of agony. A low moan grew in my throat and I threw myself against her.

She tasted like the finest honey, and to my delight she submitted to my aggressive treatment. Roughly, I reversed our positions, pushing her into the stone until she arched toward me. I couldn't get enough of her, the sweet smell of lavender filling my senses. She had been right all along, she did mean something to me.

I bit down on her swollen lower lip, and she groaned at the pain, her small arms wrapping themselves around my neck. I forced my tongue past her lips, filling myself with her rich taste. My hands began to roam slowly over her willowy form, coming to rest on her neck. I pulled myself away from her lips, and she tilted her head back, her breath coming out in quick puffs, her chest heaving against me.

I buried my face in her soft neck, intoxicating myself on her sent. I ran my lips lightly over her skin, causing a shiver to run down her body. I moved my face up to hers, pinning her forehead with mine.

Her eyes met mine slowly, their green depths were darker then I'd ever seen them. Slowly, tantalizingly, she licked her lower lip.

"See, I do mean something to you." She whispered quietly. I growled in response, pulling her face up to mine for another kiss. To my surprise, she returned my advances with even more vigor. My hands moved their way down her body once more, taking in every curve, until I reached the hip of her dress. My fingers hitched the thick fabric up. I wanted to feel her skin beneath mine; I wanted to savor this moment for as long as I possibly could.

A tremble went through her again when I finally managed to lift her dress up to her knees. I pinned her further into the wall with my body, and she arched languidly up to me. Then I felt her fingers deftly unbuttoning my cape, the silver clasps snapping obediently open at her touch. With a low hush it hit the floor behind me, and I had an insane desire to throw her down upon it and rip off the rest of her dress, to see her pale skin bare upon the rich black velvet.

I pushed her small hands from me and inched her closer, moving my fingers behind her back, untying what I found there. She moaned against my lips when the thick fabric gave way. I moved my hands up to her shoulders and pushed the outer layer of the dress away, watching it pool at her feet.

I released her lips once more, but this time to gaze at the form that was offered before me. When I pulled back she leaned heavily against the wall, her eyes meeting mine boldly. I could clearly see her form outlined in her thin shift. She was built sensuously, her legs were long and lean, and her loose corset displayed her small heaving breasts to their best advantage. She was by no means beautiful, but she radiated with charm and sexuality. She was a woman that any man in his right senses would want to take.

"Lizzy…" I began, my voice thick, but she didn't give me a chance to finish. Her small hands reached for my waistcoat and she pulled me back to her, leaning herself back up to me, her fingers slowly unbuttoning their way down my chest.

When she reached the clasp of my pants she hesitated. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to mine.

**Elizabeth**

I had never imagined, even in my wildest dreams, that it would be like this. Erik's mouth was hot on mine, his lips tearing into me with a ruthless force. When he began to unhook my dress, his fingers making their way clumsily, but swiftly down my back I thought I would burst with desire for him.

Now, with my hands resting on the last shred of our sanity, I paused. We could stop here, move away from each other as if nothing had happened between us. I knew full well that he didn't love me the way I loved him. I knew that I was setting myself up for pain. But, I wanted _him_ to make this last step, to tell me that this was what he wanted too.

I couldn't see him very well in the dark. The only thing I could even remotely catch a glimpse of in this pitch was his ivory mask. But I knew that he could see me. So, I waited for his reaction.

To my astonishment, my hesitation only seemed to drive him on. He harshly pushed my hands off of his pants and he unfastened them himself. Once he had accomplished this he pushed me harder into the wall. I could feel him lifting me up higher, using the wall as a crux to support me against his weight. I braced myself with my hands against his broad shoulders, my heart pounding wildly.

Erik lifted his face to mine and, inch-by-inch, he slowly moved my silky thin shift up my legs. He paused only to remove his gloves, and then he resumed his task, his warm palms running over my thighs. I didn't attempt to kiss him, I didn't feel like it would be right, besides, even if I couldn't see his eyes, I knew that he was peering into mine, and I could feel my color rising.

Once he managed to raise my shift past my legs he paused. But we both knew that there was only one end to this, and there was nothing we could do but move toward it.

I moaned when I felt him enter me, and he hissed between his clinched teeth, resting his forehead against my neck. Then there was stillness.

But it didn't last for long. In a way I was glad our coupling was rough and brutal, it didn't seem fitting for it to be sweet or tender. That wasn't the Erik I knew and loved; there were moments when he could be kind, but he was always dangerous.

He slammed me against the wall again and again, and each time I pushed back against him. Challenging him to ride me harder. My gasps were met by his low moans of satisfaction, echoing deep in his throat. Sweat began to form a fine sheen on our bodies, even though the passageway was deeply chilled by the subterranean lake.

I could feel my body tensing with a pleasure that bordered on intense pain, Erik attacked me with even more vigor, pushing himself deeper and deeper into me, and then, it was over. My body quaking in Erik's grip, his shuddering gasps hot on my neck.

For a few moments we remained suspended in our moment, then Erik slowly lowered me back to the ground. Wordlessly, he turned from me, re-buttoning his shirt and pants, picking up his cloak from the floor.

I remained where I was, my hands supporting my body against the wall, my breathing heavy.

Erik turned back to me, once more the frustratingly, distant man that was unobtainable to me. Slowly he reached out a gloved hand for my face, his other hand hitting the switch that would return me to my room.

I winced as the burning lanterns met my eyes, and looked up at Erik.

His gaze was dark, his eyes misted over with his lust. But he smirked smugly at me.

"Thank you for that…_intresting_…display of affection. However, there is still time for you to learn more from this meeting with Cabartte."

My jaw dropped in outrage and anger.

"You son of a…"

His gloved finger came to rest lightly on my lips.

"Do as I say. And try to stay out of trouble." He quipped, his tone mincing once more. He lifted my hand to his lips quickly, and then he was gone, the wall closing tightly behind him.


	45. Confusion

**A/N:**

**First off, thank you for the reviews Hot4Gerry and bastinterest! And I'm so sorry for leaving you out Victoria Venom! *sends a box of valentine's chocolates to make up for it***

** I know that my editing wasn't all that great on the last chapter, and I plan on revising that draft as soon as I can, so thank you for being patient with my mistakes. Obviously, automatic spell check wasn't as kind to me as I'd hoped :P**

**I've looked this one over a few times and I tried to catch everything, but I'm sure I missed a few spots. **

**On that note, I will make another shameless beg for a beta reader! If anyone is interested you can e-mail me, it should be on my profile page.**

**Anyway…**

**Enjoy and Review! **

**Elizabeth**

The silence was deafening. The emotions that were racing through my mind were slowly overpowering me.

As soon as Erik left I collapsed on the floor, my body shuddering with my sobs. Tears, hot with shame poured down my face.

I had just, willing, let this manipulative man take advantage of me. And I had wanted, almost _begged _him to do it.

I leaned my head back against the wall, letting my self-loathing take over. _What have you done? How will he see you now? _I sincerely felt that I would never see him again. My actions tonight had placed me ahead of Christine, and surely there would be hell to pay for it.

Slowly, painfully, I managed to calm my breathing. But as my hysteria dissipated, my memories returned. Despite my best efforts, I found myself re-playing the events that had transpired in the hallway. Once again, I could feel his soft hands inching their way up my legs, his breath warm on my neck. Then reality hit, and hit hard.

I had just made love to a man. Opera ghost or not, in most cases, coupling tended to led to more complicated matters in nine months.

Instantly motivated, I hurriedly threw on a new dress, my fingers fumbling over the hooks in my hurry. _I needed to tend this, and tend to it fast. _

Once my dress was secure I flew out of my room and back into the narrow hallways. To my astonishment it was only late evening. I halted in my flight to gaze, open mouthed, out a window. The sun had just sunk beneath the horizon and evening's gentle glow flooded the dim passageway with a comforting light. To me, it felt like an age had passed since I had rushed from the square to warn Erik. Shaking my head, I continued on.

The kitchens, to my relief, were empty. My stepmother, it appeared, had just finished cooking dinner, and loud voices echoed in from the busy dining area. Quietly, I gathered the materials that I would need and hurried back to my room, leaving some of my supplies out. I knew I would need to come back later to make my tea.

**Erik**

Once the telltale metallic snip of the door met my ears, I slammed my fists angrily into the wall. Bracing myself, I reached one hand up to my face and flung my mask away from me. _Damn her._

This wasn't supposed to be happening. I wasn't supposed to let this happen.

I placed my forehead heavily against the cold stone, trying to ground my emotions. Of course I desired her sexually, how could I not when she offered herself so willing, so _trustingly_ to me? But, she wasn't what I wanted. She wasn't Christine, nor would she ever be. A deep seeded rage began to rush through me. _How did I let this get so far out of hand?_

With a roar, I pushed myself away from the wall. I grabbed up my discarded mask and placed it roughly back over my disfigurement. Anger coursed through me at rampant pace, embedding itself into every fiber of my being. Gladly, I slipped into its welcome embrace. _I don't want her. I don't need her. I could kill her for this. _

Finally, I reached the relative safety of my home. I flung myself onto one of my battered chairs, my head in my hands.

Despite all my denials I couldn't escape the memory of her. I couldn't get her sent out of my system; I could still hear her gasping moans in my ear. She had taken me, knowing full well what I was. She had _wanted _me.

Never, in my entire life have I been wanted. Even Christine…

_No! _I thought violently. _Christine had wanted me, and if that simpering fop hadn't gotten in my way I could've had her._

But, I thought bitterly, another had made me whole. Elizabeth had willingly taken away my shame. I could now call myself a full man, one who has known woman carnally. My accursed virginity had been stripped from me.

She wasn't supposed to mean anything to me. But in that instant I knew that she did. The moment her lips met mine I knew that I had secretly desired her all these months. When I deposited her back in her room it took all of my strength not to rip the remainder of her clothing off and take her again.

I rose slowly. Perhaps a walk would help to clear my thoughts.

**Elizabeth**

My tea made, I slipped out of the kitchens as quietly as I could, keeping a cautious eye on the shifting liquid. I couldn't afford to loose a single drop on my long walk back to my room. Luckily, the halls were deserted once more and I made it back without any mishaps.

Moppet met me with eager mews at my door and I decided to let her out into the hallways for the night. She sleeked past me without a second glance and melted into the gloom. I shut my door and placed my steaming cup on my bedside table. I clambered into my bed, carrying my latest novel with me, and slowly sipped my tea, trying to ignore the bitter taste.

Once I had finished my draft I allowed myself to stretch out fully on my soft mattress. I laid my book on the floor and curled into a small ball on my side, but I couldn't seem to relax. I allowed myself to toss and turn for the better part of an hour before I gave up the ghost. With a loud sigh I pushed myself up to a sitting position. _This is hopeless._

Finally, I decided to sneak down to the bathing rooms. Perhaps a bath would restore my shattered nerves. Quickly, I gathered up a new shift, a long shawl and a small lantern and stepped out into the darkened hallway once more.

**Erik**

My walk had taken me all over the opera house. I wandered from room to room, sometimes pausing to listen to conversations, sometimes checking on my various mechanisms and trap doors. But nothing could drive her from my mind.

Frustration soon gave way to anger, and several times I debated on going to her room and silencing my fascination with her once and for all. I knew full well I was capable of killing her, but the idea only seemed to sicken me. As I wandered further and further down into the opera house my rage festered inside me, eating its way to my core like a cancer.

Suddenly, a loud mewing caught my attention. There, stretched out on the floor ahead of me was that white cat of Elizabeth's, its eyes flashing at me in the darkness. With a chuckle I knelt down beside it, my hand running over her soft fur.

"How the devil did you get in here?" I asked softly. The cat mewed her response and began to purr loudly. For several minutes I continued to stroke her, then without warning she decided to move further down the stone passageway. As I had nothing better to do, I decided to follow her.

She weaved down hallway after hallway, leading me closer and closer to one of the lower rooms. Then, she paused, rubbing her face against a two-way mirror that led into the bathing room.

This room had always been one of my favorites. The marble had been transported from Arabia and everything was illuminated with soft, flickering candles. A small hot spring provided continuous hot water to flow to the various tubs that filled the room.

_A bath might do me some good, _I thought, my finger reaching for the switch that would lead me into the warm space. Then a small splash halted me. Someone was in the room. I took a step closer so I could see clearly who it was. My breath caught in my throat and I let out an audible groan.

Elizabeth leaned up in the small cast iron tub, running her hands over her newly wet hair, tucking it around her shoulder. She was wearing a thin shift that clung to her body tightly, leaving little to the imagination. I wanted to kick the small cat that was still purring at the mirror.

I watched, transfixed, as she leaned back against the tub, her arms draping over either side. Once more I could feel my blood begin to pound relentlessly in my ears, and I hastily tried to push down my growing lust.

She disappeared from my view once more, ducking her head under the water. This time when she rose she ran her hands slowly down her hair, pulling the water from it. With a sigh she pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin there, her long hair draping all around her. It was then that I realized that I'd never noticed her hair before. She was always wearing that small, well-starched cap, never letting any loose strands slip out.

I couldn't move. This was the woman that I had made love to mere hours earlier. And, the devil take me, despite all my efforts, I wanted her again.

**Elizabeth**

The bath did help. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. There was a large mirror in this room, but it was so fogged up by the humidity that I doubted Erik had converted it into an entrance. Besides, why would he want to look in on the bathing room?

I was about to pull myself from the warm water when I heard the door open beside me. I turned my head to see who was entering, my arms instinctively covering my breasts. Then, Renee's head popped around the door, a mischievous smile on her face.

"Hello Renee." I said quickly, leaning back against the tub, my head still facing her.

"Hello indeed," She chortled, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind her quietly. She moved across the room to sit in a chair that faced my small tub, her eyes looking at me expectantly.

"A vinegar solution was in the kitchens earlier." She said simply, arching a dark eyebrow at me.

"Ugh." I sighed and I ducked my head under the water again. Unsurprisingly, she was still ready to question me when I emerged.

"There wasn't an issue when I made it for you earlier this month." I stated testily, crossing my arms defensively.

"Oh come on Lizzy, you know who I'm sleeping with. But I had no idea that you were even remotely attracted to someone." Renee cried, leaning toward me.

I didn't answer her, my gaze turned from hers and I looked reflectively out at the room. Renee seemed to sense my unhappiness.

"Oh Lizzy, whatever is the matter! Should I have not brought it up?" She asked softly.

I shrugged. "I don't know what I feel anymore."

"Did he hurt you?"

I smiled sadly. "Very much."

"Oh my darling! Then he's not worth your love." Renee cried, coming to sit on the floor by the tub.

"I can't help but love him." I said softly, turning my head to look at her. "He needs me I think, even if he won't admit it to himself."

Renee patted my arm tenderly. "My poor darling. I wish I could help you, but I know you wouldn't want it."

I laughed at her response. "No I wouldn't. You know me too well."

"I could tell that you've been upset lately, but I had set it all down on Madeline. So I don't know you as well as I thought I did I suppose." Renee replied, rising to her feet. Then she turned back to me.

"Be careful love, I don't want you to get hurt. Honestly, it's not worth it if he doesn't care for you."

I smiled up at her. "I know."

"Do go to bed soon, I know you need all the sleep you can get!" Renee said, bringing my long shawl over to me. Wordlessly I took it from her and stood, water dripping down my body. I wrapped it tightly around me and stepped out. Together Renee and I gathered our lanterns and made the long trek back to our rooms.


	46. The Plot Begins

**A/N:**

**Thank you for the reviews Hot4Gerry, Claire, Bastinterest, and Victoria Faye! **

**I hurriedly edited this so I could get it out on time so please excuse the mistakes, hopefully at some point I'll have time to sit down and really edit over all of this chapters :P**

**Happy Valentine's day to everyone and please R&R!**

**Elizabeth**

I woke before dawn the next morning. Everything was quiet and still, almost eerily so. As I lay in bed I tried to place the tense energy that I was feeling. To me, it seemed like the deep calm that comes before the raging storm. But I knew I couldn't lay in bed tormenting myself with my different theories, the best thing for me to do was rise and face it.

Once I shifted to move out of bed I realized why I couldn't get comfortable during the night. My whole body was aching. I moved to the mirror that dominated my tiny room and pulled my nightshift down to try and determine where the pain was coming from. I couldn't hold back my gasp of shock. Large bruises had grown along my upper back, and my right shoulder had a deep cut running along its edge. But there was not time to tend to my injuries. De Perix's suite still hadn't been cleaned and I knew my neck would be on the line if I didn't perform up to par for him. I quickly began to dress, throwing on whatever was close. Needless to say, I decided to forgo my corset.

Once I had fastened my cap securely over my hair, I quickly headed for the manager's room. I knew I needed to have it finished before De Perix arrived, and even as early as I had risen I knew I wouldn't have much time. My feet made little sound as I dashed over the lush carpeting in the hallway, but I still felt like I was making too much noise. I knew that Cabartte often stayed overnight in this part of the opera house and I didn't want to take any chances on waking him.

After what seemed an eternity, I reached De Perix's suite. Hesitantly, I edged the door open. It was dark, cold and blessedly vacant. Pulling a small match from my apron pocket I proceeded to like one of the oil lamps over his large desk. I didn't dare light anymore, even though I could barely see what I was dusting. For two hours I worked in that dim lighting, mopping, sweeping and spot cleaning everything in sight. By the time I'd finished the sun was peeking playfully through the large window, flooding the room with its warming light. With a loud sigh I gathered my supplies, silently closed the door behind me and crept back towards the kitchens.

My stepmother shouted across the room to me when she saw me enter.

"Hello Lizzy dear! Would you mind helping me with the eggs? I can't seem to get this batter to work for the crepes."

"Of course," I replied, wiping my hands on my apron I moved over to the open burner and began to crack open as many eggs that I could cram into the skillet. We worked in silence for a while before my stepmother spoke again.

"I feel like we hardly ever see you Lizzy! What have you been up to?" She asked playfully, her smile was contagious.

"Just cleaning really. I heard that De Perix plans on hiring four more maids to help me out, I suppose it's because the opera house has had so much success within the last year." I replied, flipping my eggs over to make a small omelet.

"Then we'll really get to see more of you!" My stepmother replied as she walked over to me with a platter filled with sweet, buttery crepes. "I'll finish your eggs, just go set this on the main table and grab yourself a bite to eat."

The dining room was already filling up with stagehands and the others who made the Opera Populaire their home. Once I sat the platter down more then half of the crepes were snatched away. Laughing, I quickly beat Sophie to the largest one on the pile and walked swiftly back to the kitchens to enjoy my prize.

Renee was already sitting at the large bar, one of my misshapen omelets on the plate in front of her. Pulling up a chair I claimed the empty space next to her.

"Well," Renee began. "This is a change. I don't think you've eaten breakfast with the rest of us in over a month!"

"I know." I said, pouring a small amount of honey over my crepe. "I do apologize for that."

"It's nice seeing you again." She said thoughtfully, tilting her head toward me. I smiled in return. Renee turned back to her omelet, and I poked at my crepes for a few moments when an idea hit me.

"Renee, does De Perix's son know much about what's going on with the managers?" I asked, as nonchalantly as I could.

"He might. We don't really talk about them much. Why do you ask?" Renee questioned, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

"Oh no reason really," I said, quickly losing momentum. I knew I couldn't lie successfully to Renee.

"Is everything alright?" Renee asked, putting her hand out to me.

"I'm…worried that Aunt Maria might be in something over her head," I said lamely, grasping at the first thought that popped into my head.

"Aunt Maria? Since when…"

"She's talking to Cabartte, Renee." I said hurriedly, turning to look at her for the first time.

"I know." Renee said softly. "I wasn't sure what to do about it myself, but I doubt that Peter knows much about those kind of discussions."

"But he's De Perix's son!" I said, my frustration beginning to get the better of me. _How on earth am I supposed to find out what's going on now!_

"De Perix trusts no one." Renee replied sharply.

"But…" I began, only to quickly hush when Madeline walked slowly over to us. She looked pale, but some color was beginning to come back into her cheeks. I smiled warmly at her. _Hopefully the warmer weather will bring her back to life again._

"Hello Lizzy," Madeline said softly, wrapping her thin arms around me.

"Hello darling! How are you feeling?" I asked as I hugged her back.

"Better. Madame Giry might even let me dance some today!" She replied, her face lighting up at the thought. I kissed her lightly on her forehead.

"That's wonderful! But don't over exert yourself, promise?"

"I won't." She smiled.

"Good. Tonight let's read to each other! It's been an age since I've read with you." I said, grinning back.

"Really?! You mean it Lizzy!" She cried, clapping her small hands in delight.

"Of course! And you can pick the book." I laughed.

She hugged me tightly to her again. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Madeline!" I cried. "You don't have to thank me! Now hurry along to Madame Giry, you know she detests tardiness! And I have to get to work, but I'll meet you in here after dinner."

And after one more quick hug she was off, exerting more energy then I'd seen from her in a month. I quickly finished my breakfast, kissed Renee goodbye and headed toward the stage to begin my cleaning.

"I didn't realize that I would have to clear my reasons for visiting the damned box with you!" Cabartte's angry yell filled the whole theater, echoing and reverberating all around us.

I had scarcely finished mopping the mahogany floor of the stage when Cabartte entered with De Perix, more livid then I had ever seen him. As swiftly as I possibly could I took cover behind one of the large curtains, Madame Giry clucking at me for stepping in front of a few of her girls as they practiced.

For a few minutes the men talked quietly, then suddenly Cabartte turned on De Perix, his large body towering over De Perix's thin frame.

"But no one is to go to box five!" De Perix cried desperately.

"Why the hell not man! There's no ghost here! Who's interest are you working for?" Cabartte roared, tossing his heavy cane to the ground.

"He is most insistent that he wants no one to go into that box." De Perix replied, wringing his hands.

But after this comment Cabartte seemed to calm down some and couldn't catch the rest of their conversation. I decided to see if I could move closer. Leaving my mop propped against a wall, I slowly slunk over to the small passageway that would lead up to the boxes. Luckily, the men happened to be standing directly under box number five, and surely Erik wouldn't mind if I went in to try and catch the last part of their conversation.

The hallway that lead up to the boxes was dark even in the midday sun. I crept as quietly as I could up, my hand resting on the wall, steadying my feet. I was just about to turn the last corner when suddenly I head a low voice.

Instantly I froze. Every sense on alert, I tried to peer out into the gloom.

"Keep quiet! Only a few more minutes!" The voice said again, and I heard another low murmur answer it. Whoever this was, it certainly wasn't Erik.

I had begun to inch forward, when suddenly two figures dashed in front of me. One, I recognized instantly, Aunt Maria. She paused and waved to her small companion, a small, grimy looking street urchin. _What on earth is going on?_

"Now! Do it now!" She cried and the lad pulled out a small match and struck it against the wall loudly. I shrunk back so they wouldn't catch my figure in the dim glow. I watched as a small smirk moved across his face.

"I better be paid for this work I've put in miss!" And with that he threw the match into the doorway that lead to box five.

The instant the match hit the room a loud boom echoed across the opera house, shaking the very foundation beneath my feet. I was thrown backwards by the sheer force and by the large wall of flames that erupted out, licking the doorway into oblivion.


	47. Moving on

**A/N:**

**Wow. Thank you for being down for so long Fanfiction! Honestly, I had this done and ready to go on Sunday! Promise!**

**Anyway, sorry for the length of the last chapter! Last week was beyond insane but I wanted to at least post something for you guys. **

**Now for an update, Bastinterest has kindly offered to edit! Yay, no more typos! She did a great job on this chapter. So, to give her more time to edit properly, after this week I will move the updating date to Sunday.**

**Thanks for reviewing Hot4Gerry, Bastinterest (and editing!), and Victoria Faye!**

**Elizabeth**

Instinctively, I shrank back against the wall, too horrified and stunned to make my way back down the hallway. A thick cloud of smoke ominously rose above the flames, stretching its way languidly down the hall. Soon, screams and loud shouts came from the floors below, slowly waking me from my trance.

I swiftly pulled myself to my feet, trying to keep my head below the smoke line. But I had allowed too much time to pass. The fumes had gathered en masse at the end of the hallway, and I found myself coughing violently, my lungs desperately trying to expel the deadly vapor. I paused, leaning heavily against the wall. I could feel my airways beginning to close rapidly, my vision becoming blurry. I grasped desperately at my throat, trying to will myself to take in another breath.

"Lizzy! Move!" Erik's rich voice whispered dangerously from the wall behind me.

Startled, I pulled myself away, my eyes scanning the dim space for him.

"Damn you! They're coming up the stairs, go now!" He snarled again, his disembodied voice now floating around to the other wall.

With my last ounce of strength I willed myself to dash through the thick cloud of smoke and through the door that led to the stage. Once I was safely on the other side I threw my weight against the doorway, shutting out the horrifying scene. Gasping and wheezing for air, I collapsed, resting my head heavily on the wooden floor beams.

Soon strong arms grabbed me and slowly pulled me to my feet.

"Elizabeth! What on earth?" Madame Giry cried, her voice hissing angrily in my ear.

"A fire…there's a fire!" I finally managed to rasp out. Clucking loudly, she pulled me over to the other side of the stage. She led me to sit on a small chair and pulled a small fan out of her dress. Slowly she began to wave it over my face.

"Yes, we all know about the fire. We had a lovely view of it from the stage," she said sharply, her voice taut with fury.

"Aunt Maria and some boy started it," I said slowly, still trying to catch my breath.

"That woman isn't clever enough to think of anything of this magnitude on her own," she replied, moving the fan faster.

"You don't think that Cabartte…" I began, but she cut me off.

"Oh, I think that he has everything to do with it. And I think that you know all too well the person they're after," she said grimly, fixing her steely eyes fully on me.

*******

That night thenight the story that was on everyone's lips was the fire that the Phantom had started in his rage at Cabartte. He had overheard the manager's decision to use Box Five and in his rage he had set it ablaze, hoping to dissuade them once and for all. He was mad, a man who would stop at nothing to get his way. He was a man that must be erased from this world.

After the initial shock had worn off, a group of the stagehands decided to form a lynch mob and search the premise for any sign of him. They looked high and low, but could find no entrance. I watched with a mixture of horror and amusement as they walked past mirror after mirror, never thinking to simply smash one and find the long, subterranean passageways that would lead them straight to him.

Needless to say, I didn't have much of an appetite for supper that night.

I sat at one of the long tables in the kitchens, picking mindlessly at my small slice of cold meat. A deep sense of dread was growing like a cancer in the back of my mind. _Was this his great plan? Was this what Cabartte had planned for Erik, a sick game of cat and mouse?_

"Lizzy, are you feeling alright?" Madeline asked softly.

I smiled halfheartedly at her. "Of course I am, dear. I just don't have much of an appetite tonight."

"Is it because he's in trouble?" She asked softly, pulling her chair closer to me. I started; I had completely forgotten that I had told her about Erik.

"Yes," I said simply, and returned to picking at my food.

"I thought that might be the reason. Do you think he will be alright?"

"I'm not sure. I think he will remain untouched for a while, but I don't know how long he can evade them. There's no stopping Cabartte when he wants something," I replied bitterly.

Madeline was silent for a few minutes. She seemed to be absorbing everything that was going on in the busy kitchen.

"I think that he will be angry," she said quietly, turning her gaze to me. "But I don't think it will surprise him."

I found myself agape at her understanding of a man that she had never met before in her life. I only hoped that he would decide to not take his anger out on me.

Once again, Madeline and I sank into silence, both lost in our own thoughts. My mind instantly shifted over to Erik, and to my chagrin I found myself replaying the memories of the previous night. Thankfully, Madeline began to speak again.

"Can we still read tonight, Lizzy?" She asked, beaming up at me.

"Of course, dearest! Have you picked a book yet?" I inquired cheerfully. _This might be just the distraction I need._

"I want to read _The Woman in White_!" She cried, clapping her hands in delight.

"That's somewhat appropriate for this situation." I said laughingly.

*******

Later that evening, as I hung the massive amounts of laundry that I had washed after supper, Madeline and I took turns reading to each other from our selected novel. As I had hoped, I found myself transported from the traumatic events of the day to another world. A world where heroines could succeed despite insurmountable odds; and it gave me a small glimmer of hope that somehow, someway, I could make it through this insane situation that I found myself these days.

*******

The weeks passed by slowly. Although the mystery of the Opera Ghost was still fresh in everyone's minds, the group of vigilantes seemed to have given up the chase. There were still talks of hunting down the great _Fantôme_, but they all came to naught in the end. The fire had left a large scar on the right side of the opera house, but the repairs began soon after, and slowly the charred remains were removed. I suppose Cabartte had been hoping to discover a passageway, but Erik was far too clever to make a mistake as elementary as that. Erik knew that Box Five was as synonymous with his masquerade as the Phantom, so he must have decided to not put in any kind of entrance. Or if he had, he quickly destroyed it.

Things quickly fell into a normal pattern once more. My days consisted of cleaning and visiting with my family. There were no visits from Erik, no dark notes, nothing. In a way it un-nerved me. I've never liked being left in the dark. And, as Erik had told me so many times before, I didn't know how to keep my nose out of matters that didn't concern me. And despite all of this, what I really missed was his companionship. And the fact that he ceased to come around made everything that happened over the past year and a half feel like a dream from which I was only just waking.

My family was ecstatic to have me back with them again, and they made sure that I never wanted for anything. Madeline especially was glad to see me more often, and I couldn't help feeling a pang of guilt for all the months that I had hardly seen her. Sophie was eager to sing again and she always asked if her "teacher" would be willing to come and give her another lesson. Renee made sure that I visited regularly with Meg and some of the older ballet dancers, and I found that it was refreshing to leave the opera house for the vast streets of Paris and the excitement that they brought. But I still found myself thinking and worrying about Erik. Every night I lit a small candle and read, hoping to hear the familiar click of the wall, hoping to see _him._ I knew that it was foolish to love him, and I knew that he would most likely never return my affection; but we can't choose who we will love, and somehow I knew that I would go to my grave wanting only him.

Early one morning I decided to clean the upper balconies that surrounded the main staircase. Heaving my mop and bucket up the countless steps I set to work, trying to polish as much as I could before lunch. I had retreated back into the darker parts of the hall when I heard voices coming from below. Unperturbed, I merely continued to drag the heavy mop across the marble. Only when I recognized Cabartte's booming voice did I stop.

Instinctively, I pulled myself further into the shadows. So far my day had been going well and I didn't want him to mar it, but part of me also wanted to know what his sick mind was concocting now.

"Gentlemen, please! The repairs are coming along smoothly. There's no need for us to argue over price just yet. Let's let them finish their work and then we can begin the negotiations," Cabartte said, his voice bouncing on the smooth marble walls.

"I agree with Mousier Cabartte. Let's allow them to finish their work," De Perix's nasal voice chimed.

There were a few mutters from some of the other men that were gathered down below, but Cabartte already had them in his power He simpered and smirked and soon had all of them agreeing with his new plan for Box Five.

"We shall make it into a box for the Vicomte and his new bride, the famous Christine Daae," Cabartte said in a quieter tone.

I almost gasped with surprise. This was a clear challenge to Erik. But was this the extent of his plan? Surely he had something else up his sleeve, although putting "Vicomte De Chagny" in brass over the box would rile Erik up fairly well.

"Yes, I agree that we should do something of this nature to honor our esteemed Patron, but is this a wise move? We all know the story of…" one of the men began, but Cabartte quickly silenced him.

"Of course we shall use every precaution, but there is nothing to fear. We shall handle this minor issue as soon as we can," Cabartte smiled, his words sending chills down my spine.

"How do you expect to get rid of this madman?" another gentlemen asked, and Cabartte's smile suddenly became Cheshire-like.

"Oh, by exorcism," he snarled, his voice suddenly hostile. "By killing him, of course. He can't hide from us forever you know. As I stated before we shall handle this issue, let us have no qualms on that score. Now come! Paris awaits and I believe we have a reservation waiting." And with that he ushered the small group out onto the streets.

I was deeply tempted to follow them. I glanced up at the small clock that adorned the crest of the doors. It was only eleven o' clock. I still had plenty of time to clean and I knew I wouldn't be missed at lunch since Renee and Peter had decided to go out for the day. Without a second thought, I rested my mop securely on the stairs and quickly made my way outside.

The sun was shining brightly on the square, but not many had descended on the multitude of shops yet, and I could just see Cabartte's group walking toward one of the many cafés. Hurriedly, I hitched up my light skirts and dashed after them, taking care to always stay out of their sight. I paused at one of the street vendors and watched with frustration as they _walked into _the café.

_Brilliant plan, Lizzy, but how on earth are you supposed to get in now?_

Quickly, I surveyed my options. I could try and sneak in, but this wasn't a coffee shop in the early morning hours, and there would be many, many people to avoid. There weren't any windows that I could listen near either. Just as I was about to give up all hope, a dangerous idea popped into my head.

Confident that this rash plan would at least get me into the café, I strode forward. I came to the small wooden door and knocked quietly on it. Immediately, a small, harried-looking man answered it.

"What do you need?" He asked gruffly, surveying me distastefully.

"I'm applying for the posted position of scullery maid." I replied calmly, hoping beyond hope that this was an open position.

"Oh. They told me that you would be coming tomorrow," he said quickly, ushering me in so I wouldn't be seen blocking the door.

"I'm applying elsewhere tomorrow," I quickly responded.

"Hmpf. Well, I'll take you to the manager." And with that he led me through the back of the restaurant, right past the table where Cabartte and his group were sitting.

"Wait here," he whispered to me, and pulled me back towards one of the walls. I nodded my assent and watched him walk down towards the kitchens.

Swiftly, I moved closer to the booth where the men were gathered, making sure that Cabartte and De Perix couldn't see me.

"We plan on luring him out with her. If she'll cooperate, that is," De Perix said quietly. A few of the men quickly raised an objection to this.

"That is absurd! What if he manages to take her again! The Vicomte is a powerful man, and I for one, would not wish to have him against me."

"Gentlemen, please! As I said at the opera house, we are taking every possible precaution. But I don't want to see this man evade justice any longer. He deserves to be hung, and by God, I will bring him to the gallows myself if I have to!" Cabartte boomed.

"How are you…?" One of the men began, but Cabartte hurriedly cut him short.

"That, is something that I shall keep to myself."

"You could at least…" one of the speaker began, but I didn't get a chance to hear the last part of this statement as the doorman had returned and I had to dash back to my original position.

"The manager cannot see you today," he stated simply and pointed demandingly towards the door. I curtsied my assent and was rapidly escorted back onto the square.

I didn't return to the opera house immediately. I decided to take a long walk to try and clear my thoughts. As I wove through the crowds I racked my brain for a way to tell Erik. He would need to know about the box, but if I told him that Christine was coming for sure I knew he would immediately begin a plan to capture her once more. Cabartte would have foreseen this, and I knew he would base most of his plan on Erik's reliability in that matter. _But how? How is he planning on luring Christine back? Raoul didn't want her to come here. Surely she wouldn't disobey her new husband so blatently._

Slowly, I began to make my way back to the opera house, still trying to put all of these loose pieces together. I wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to where I was walking and found myself running into the broad chest of a man.

"Oh, I'm so sorry sir!" I cried in alarm, only to blanch when I saw into whom I had so carelessly walked.

De Perix's nephew smiled down on me, his icy gaze capturing mine. He was still just as eerily handsome, and despite all my efforts I found myself strangely attracted to him. But, I also remembered that night on the rooftops, and I hastily shied away.

"Forgive me," I said quickly and made to dash around him and back into the opera house. But his long arm halted my flight.

"Elizabeth, wait," he said softly, pulling me back to him. Immediately, I tensed and wormed my way out of his grip.

"If you'll excuse me, Monsieur," I said coldly and made to walk past him once more.

"Elizabeth!" He called after me, but I had already made my way into the opera house. I was about to dash up the main steps when I felt his hands pull me back to him.

"Elizabeth, I want to talk to you!" He said impatiently, wheeling me around to face him. I struggled to escape his grip, but this time he held me fast. Exasperated, I decided to at least hear him out.

"What is it, Monsieur?" I asked, meeting his silver-blue eyes once more.

"I wish to apologize for that night. I didn't mean what I said in the least. Your reaction startled me, and I'm afraid I'm not used to beautiful young women resisting me so violently," he said softly, slowly releasing his grip on my arms.

I didn't say anything for a moment. I was too stunned. Here was a man who was miles above my station practically begging me for my forgiveness.

"I don't know what to say." I said honestly, lowering my gaze. I didn't feel right doing this, and for some reason, I suddenly didn't feel safe.

"Just tell me that we can be friends again," he replied, hooking his finger under my chin and raising my face to his.

I hesitated. This felt so utterly _wrong._

But my lips didn't wait for my mind to catch up.

"Of course, Monsieur," I replied, and to my utter shock he hugged me to him. I tried for a moment to wiggle myself away, but he held me too strongly. Slowly, I patted him on the back, and to my relief he let go of me.

"Thank you for that, Elizabeth. But I'm sure you have much to do and I'm keeping you from it." He grinned, and raised my limp hand to his lips "Good day to you, Mademoiselle Brett." And with that he strode out the doors.

Slowly, I lowered myself to sit on one of the bottom steps, bewildered by what had just taken place.

The rest of the day passed like any other. I finished cleaning, ate supper with my family and new group of friends, and later Madeline and I finished the _The Woman in White_ while I hung the laundry in the warm kitchens.

It was nearly one in the morning when I finally returned to my rooms, exhausted with the day's events. I had even managed to forget about Cabartte and De Perix's nephew. My door squeaked as I pushed it open, and I made a mental note to oil it in the morning.

I bent to light a match, and the small flame illuminated the chair in front of me. Suddenly, my feeling of calm contentment left. Erik sat silently in front of me, his golden blue eyes flashing in the match-light. Gasping in shock, I dropped the match and the small fall doused the only light available to me.

"Well, well, my dear." Erik's voice echoed and bounced all around me, and I shrank instinctively against the nearest wall.

"I see that you've made a new friend," he said, his velvet voice right next to my ear. I could feel the heat radiating off his powerful form, and his gloved hand slowly curling its way around my thin neck.

"Did you manage to forget me so quickly?" He asked, tightening his grip. I buckled under his touch, both in fear, and to my disgust, with the slow heat of desire.

"Did you forget," he began again, resting his face next to my neck, "that you belong to me?" For a moment he was still, and then I suddenly found myself thrown against the opposite wall. I could feel his rage rising, threatening to overpower him.

"_Damn you, Lizzy_! _You belong to me_!" He growled, pinning me painfully between himself and the cold wood behind me.


	48. Anger

**A/N:**

**Thank you for the reviews Hot4Gerry, Victoria Feye and iheartsadpandas!**

**Special thanks to bastintrest for editing!**

**Elizabeth**

His anger was humming dangerously in the air around me, but at that moment I was beyond caring. This man had carelessly thrown me aside for almost a month, and now he wanted to claim me as his? He wanted me to come to heel like a dog, and I wasn't about to take it.

"I belong to you!" I snapped, trying to shove him off of me. "I belong to no one, Erik! Least of all you!"

I regretted the words the moment they left my lips, but there was no way to take them back now. For a moment he loosened his viselike grip on me, but just as suddenly as his mood had changed, his rage returned.

"You don't belong to anyone do you? We'll see about that!" And without another word he lifted me up and hoisted me roughly into his arms. He pinned my body so tightly to his chest that I found that I was completely immobilized. But that didn't stop me from trying to put up a fight.

"Erik! Erik, put me down this instant!" I cried, wriggling savagely in his arms, but he ignored my demands. He paused for a moment to flip the switch that would activate the wall, and I was barely jostled in his powerful hold.

We descended into the wet darkness. I fought with him every inch of the way, but I knew there was nothing I could do now. Even if he decided to put me down, I was well aware of the fact that I didn't have a prayer of finding my way out of this labyrinth again. He moved slowly, almost methodically, his feet avoiding any pitfalls that were in the dark stone floor.

Soon, I lost interest in fighting him off. My body was exhausted from the rigorous schedule I had decided to put myself through, and against my will I found myself relaxing within his arms. But, as soon as Erik felt me give up my struggling he stopped, and pushed me unceremoniously from his arms.

Once I hit the ground my foot sank into a large pool of water. Hissing at the cold, I tried to grope my way over to the wall so I could regain some semblance of composure.

"Damn you, Erik." I said venomously, trying to pick out his form in the inky blackness. There was no reply. All that my ears could pick up was the distant dripping of water on stone. For one terrible moment I wondered if he had simply abandoned me in this dark hell, but just before I started to give into my rising panic I felt his warmth next to my face.

"I'm afraid your curse falls on deaf ears, my dear," His voice whispered softly, his breath warm on my chilled skin.

"Regardless," I spat, turning my head toward the sound of his elegant voice. "It's not very _gentlemanly _of you to drag me down here. I've done nothing to you, Erik."

Again, there was no answer. But this time I was content in the knowledge that he wouldn't abandon me until he had sufficiently cowed me into submission once more. I was just about to break the deafening silence, when I felt his gloved hand lightly touch my neck. Started, I found myself gasping aloud, but Erik seemed unperturbed by my outburst.

Slowly, almost _tenderly_, his fingers traced my neckline, inching their way towards my face. They stilled at my chin before he ran the back of his hand languidly across my cheek. To my chagrin, I had begun to quake under his touch, my breathing reduced to small gasps for air that echoed noisily around us.

"Erik," I panted, trying to pull myself from his intoxicating touch. "Erik, please."

He was deaf to my pleas. But I could feel his anger begin to radiate around me once more, lingering dangerously close to the surface.

"Is he everything that you could possibly want, my dear," He asked softly, resting his hand back along my neck.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I snapped, my own temper rising.

"I'm sure," he replied calmly, but his grip began to tighten around my windpipe.

"Erik, stop! You're hurting me!" I cried, my body tensing, anticipating the next blow.

"Oh, I'm hurting you, am I?" Erik crooned, pushing me roughly into the wall. "You know nothing of pain!"

"I know nothing of pain?" I yelled, squirming my way out of his grip. "How dare you, Erik! You God damned bastard! You think you can just stand there, with your self-righteous anger and tell me that _I _know nothing of pain? You're not God, Erik. You have no idea what I've been through, nor can you judge me on it."

As soon as I'd finished Erik's rage exploded. With a savage growl he pinned me against the wall once more, his hands digging deep into my arms. I cried out in shock and pain, trying desperately to kick him off of me.

"Keep still," he snarled, his voice harsh and ugly. "If you try and kick me again I'll wring your neck!"

Instantly, I stopped my vicious assault on him. But as soon as I relaxed, he flung me from him. The back of my head hit the wall with bruising force, causing small stars to cloud my vision momentarily. I whimpered in agony, and slowly sank to the floor, cradling my head in my hands.

"Lizzy," Erik called, kneeling on the ground in front of me. His hands reached to me, but I jerked myself away from his touch.

"I've always done everything you've ever asked me to!" I whispered, biting back my rising tears. When he gave no answer, I continued to talk mindlessly, trying to fill the awful void that had formed around us. "I followed Cabartte today. He's planning on trapping you for good, Erik." I was still met with his stony silence.

"I didn't ask for Jean De Perix to come to me. I'm terrified of the man. I don't know what he wants from me. I can't understand why he would choose to associate himself with a maid," I whispered, my voice barely audible to my own ears.

"But you did nothing to refuse him," Erik replied, his voice cutting me to my core.

"What the devil was I supposed to do? I tried to get away from him, but he followed me! I can't abuse the man. It could cost me my position!" I cried, exasperated. _Would he ever see all that I do for him? All he seems to care about is that damned nephew! _

"Perhaps he wants you," Erik replied coldly. "You're an easy catch, you know."

"Fuck you, Erik!" I yelled, pulling myself to my feet again. "I don't care if you are caught by them! You deserve to be locked away where no one can find you! You're a monster!"

I knew my words would hurt him, but I was beyond caring? All he did was cut me down, and I had encouraged him to do so. But I wasn't going to be treated like a common whore by this man. I was a person with feelings and emotions, not some automaton that only did his bidding.

He allowed me to push my way past him without protest, and as soon as I had cleared his sightline, I picked up my heavy skirts and ran blindly down the passageway. I kept my hand firmly against the wall for support, but I still managed to fall in several large puddles. Even if I had no idea where I was going, I knew that I needed to get as far away from Erik as possible.

I had figured that the path that led to my room would be fairly easy to find. After all, I hadn't felt Erik's body twisting and turning too much when he'd been carrying me. I felt that as long as I kept my hand against the wet stonewall I couldn't go wrong.

But I hadn't counted on the water.

It seemed to be everywhere, collecting itself in puddles or in shin deep sinkholes. My eyes soon adjusted to the intense darkness, but I could still only see a few inches in front of my feet. By the time I realized that I was standing at the edge of a vast lake, my boots were thoroughly soaked.

I almost sat down and cried when I saw that inky water stretched out in front of me. _How on earth am I supposed to get out of here?_

Slowly, I inched my way around the lake, taking great care not to wander too far from its shoreline. Time seemed to gradually slip by, and I had no way of knowing if minutes or an hour had passed.

I was about to try my luck in swimming across the lake when a small passageway appeared to my right. Crying out with delight I swiftly hurried toward it. And in my thoughtless rush, I didn't even notice the narrow walkway that would carry me over the large pool of water beside it.

I found myself floundering in waist deep, bone-chilling water. Sputtering with annoyance I slowly waded toward the small ledge that would lead to dry ground. I pulled myself up slowly, my teeth beginning to chatter loudly with the cold. Once I had completely cleared the water I allowed myself to sit for a moment, trying desperately to remember any landmarks that I might have seen. My mind was blank. It looked like my best option for the moment was the long passageway in front of me. Shivering, I pulled myself to my feet and tried to wring the excess water out of my dress before I continued.

It was not a good choice. I soon discovered that a thick wall of loose stones had blocked the exit. Frustrated beyond all human endurance I began to cry hysterically. I sunk heavily to the ground, pulling my knees under my chin, burying my face in my hands. For several minutes I allowed my emotions to take over, drowning in my sense of deepening dread.

But, despite all my hysterics, I knew that self-pity was going to get me nowhere fast. Pulling myself together, I got to my feet again, slowly inching back out towards the lake once more.

Once I had retraced my steps I scanned the area as best as I could, my eyes roving over the surfaces. For a few minutes I noticed nothing, and everything seemed to be about the same, a massive cavern with a large lake in the middle. But just when I was about to give up all hope, my eyes found another small passageway. This time I decided to err on the side of caution, tapping my feet out in front of me to feel for anymore deep pools.

The entrance to this passage was much smaller then the others and I even had to duck my head down to clear the top. Once inside, I placed my wavering hand on the wall, using it to guide me forward. For a while, everything seemed to be going smoothly. There didn't seem to be any potholes and I could feel the air beginning to pick up, but instead of warm air I only felt a chilling breeze brush past me. Undaunted, I decided to continue on, but I soon found the source of the cold breeze.

This passageway had flooded.

As soon as my feet met the icy water, I cried out in alarm. I paused, trying to consider my options. I knew that if I retraced my steps I would find myself by the lake again, but this passage might actually lead somewhere. Besides, I was already soaked. What would a little more water hurt?

Hesitantly, I forced myself to walk into the freezing depths, and I soon found myself in a pool that climbed up my torso. I lifted my hands above my head, trying to keep some part of me dry.

It was a long walk. The water slowed me down immensely and I soon found that I had to heave my now waterlogged skirts above the surface just to move. But, to my intense relief the passageway began to slope upwards and the water slowly began to recede. The moment I found myself on dry ground once more, I paused to wring out my skirts once more.

I continued onward slowly and hit another flooded passage and waded through it as quickly as I possibly could. I knew that my body temperature was dropping dangerously, but there was nothing that I could do. If I decided to stop and rest it would only plummet further so my best option was to keep pressing forward.

Moving through one more deep pool, I reached a small set of steps. I began to crawl up them on my hands and knees but my body collapsed beneath me. My thoughts were steadily becoming more muddled, and this time I simply didn't have the willpower to force myself forward. I turned around slowly, and a curious warm sensation began to inch its way slowly up my legs. My eyes closed heavily, and I slipped into a black void of oblivion.

**Erik**

I knew that my words would silence her, but I hadn't anticipated how much they would hurt. I watched with a faint sense of dread as her face flushed red and she wheeled around to face me, her green eyes flashing in her anger.

Everything that she had accused me of was true. I was a monster. But I had never known that those words could cut me so deeply. I didn't try to stop her as she rushed past me. How could I? I had abused and beaten her both mentally and physically; I fully deserved her hate.

As soon as her footsteps died away I pulled myself to my feet and slowly began the long descent to my home. I removed my cloak, flinging it furiously into a chair. I snatched my cravat off and unbuttoned my loose shirt, letting the cool air hit my flushed skin. Angrily, I strode over to my organ and threw myself down upon the bench, depressing the keys violently beneath my gloved fingers. But for once music couldn't drive away my thoughts, couldn't guide me away from my misplaced desire, couldn't block out all the terrible things I had said. I leaned back into the bench, running my hands though my hair.

Once I saw that damned nephew touch her, my rage had almost driven me out of my hiding place and down upon him. I wanted to rip his hands off of her and watch him bleed in front of me. But all too soon my anger had fixated on her. _How dare she? _

I had watched her like a hawk for the rest of the evening. She seemed to brush off the incident, which only further kindled my smoldering fury. I decided to lie in wait for her in her room, to punish her, to make her beg me for my forgiveness. It wouldn't do to have my little maid fraternizing with the enemy.

But as always, she could meet my anger. Instead of being contrite, she had flown into her own fury. I had to admit it was amusing to watch her challenge me. She knew full well that I could kill her, but she never seemed to fear me.

I don't know what possessed me to pick her up. Perhaps I was only trying to silence her. Perhaps…

_No! _I thought savagely. _I didn't desire her! I wouldn't let myself desire her!_

_Then why, _my mutinous thoughts continued. _Why did you try and seduce her in the passageway? _

I honestly hadn't expected her to react so _strongly _to my touch. But once I realized that her tremors weren't from fear I couldn't will myself to stop.

Then I remembered _him _touching her.

My anger, always so close to boiling these days, rose once more. I couldn't help myself. Then she pushed me over the edge. My vision had clouded over with a thick red haze and I didn't come to my senses until I heard her piteous cries.

She was leaning against the wall, cradling her head tenderly in her hands, tears threatening to overpower her. Stunned, I knelt down next to her, trying to fix what I had so callously broken. She was right. I did owe her much, much more then I could ever repay. She had risked her own neck for mine several times, but her escapade today she had undertaken willingly, and on her own. Then, damn her, she started to talk about Jean De Perix again.

I didn't mean what I told her.

I let out a loud sigh. _She's going to drive me mad. _

Perhaps another late night walk would help to clear my muddied thoughts. I only allowed myself to wander in the subterranean passages. I wasn't about to venture above ground, and I wasn't about to go to her.

I knew every inch of this labyrinth like the back of my hand. I could avoid pitfalls, the deep quagmires of flooded tunnels; there wasn't an inch that I hadn't charted. In many ways this dark world suited me. I had never considered myself part of the human race; I never thought that I needed what they did. I felt perfectly at home in this vast sea of emptiness that I had created for myself. I was content. _Wasn't I?_

I moved closer to the bottom of my domain, heading towards the vast lake that flowed from the river Seine when, for some reason, I decided to head in the direction of one of the flooded tunnels. It was much colder here, but I embraced it almost lovingly. The cold and the dark could never hurt me. My feet began to descend the shallow steps when suddenly I heard a small cry.

Instantly alert, I reached instinctively for the small Punjab lasso that I always carried on my person. I felt significantly exposed in just my trousers and open shirt, but I knew that my killing skills where still perfectly honed, despite the fact that I hadn't taken a life since I'd murdered that damned stage hand, Bouquet.

Slowly, I moved down the stairs, my cat-like eyes scanning for the intruder. Then I saw her.

She was sitting on the bottom most step, her whole body shivering violently. Her dress was soaked, and instantly I realized what must've happened. She must've gotten lost in the tunnels and accidentally tumbled into the lake.

"Elizabeth! What the hell do you think you're doing?" I snapped, my concern giving way to anger.

She gasped at the sound of my voice, and slowly raised her head to see me.

"Erik…is…tha…that you?" Her teeth were chattering so badly I could barely make out what she was trying to say.

"Of course it's me, you idiot! Who else wanders around down here?" I snapped. _Why the devil wasn't she getting up?_

"Where…where…am I? Why is it so…dark…I don't…under…understand," she continued, her head dropping onto her chest.

"What do you mean, where are you? You dolt! You've managed to get lost. Now get up!" I snarled at her, taking a step down towards her. Why was she acting like such a simpleton?

"Lost? I thought that…Why am I so wet?" She asked again, trying to pull herself up. She had almost managed to stand when her knees buckled under her. Without thinking, I threw myself down the last few steps and caught her wavering form.

The instant I touched her skin I knew what was wrong. She had most likely been wading through this tunnel for hours and now she had taken a deep chill, one that might lead to serious consequences if not rectified.

"Erik," she began unsteadily, trying to worm her way out of my grip.

"Be still!" I replied, pulling her sopping wet body up into my arms. She resisted weakly at first but soon became unconscious. I hurried up the steps and swiftly took the fastest passageway to my home. If I didn't get her warm soon she might die from her exposure to the frigid waters.

I sloshed swiftly through the small lake that stood in front of my organ, the sudden movement pulling her out of her stupor.

For a moment she struggled in my grasp, but I kept a firm hold on her.

"Lizzy, be still!" I growled, and she seemed to relax when she heard my voice. Once I was sure she wouldn't struggle anymore I headed up the steps that led to my small bedroom. Long ago I had decided to create a small cocoonlike sleeping space for myself, and the pewter bed stood at the ready for anyone who decided to recline on its lush velvet cushions. It hadn't been touched since that night that I had laid Christine down on its soft surface, but I knew it was the best place for me to place Lizzy.

Tenderly, I placed her atop the blood red velvets. She squirmed again at the change, but quickly surrendered as she sank into its soft coverlet. As soon as she calmed once more I hastily began to remove her soaking outer garments.

Her dress fell away slowly, the buttons snagging in my grip, but my pains were soon rewarded. I flung the heavy material behind me, and it hit the stone with a heavy thud. I turned back to her reclining form, trying to ignore my rising desire. She was still in her heavy hoop skirts and I gently turned her body on its side so I could begin to work on the tight laces. As soon as I had them untied, I placed my hands on her hips and carefully pulled off the wide circles of metal. Her long legs stretched languidly as I moved the hoops down, and she flipped herself roughly onto her side, burying her shivering body into the covers.

As soon as I'd disentangled the hoopskirt I turned away from her. My hands were trembling with my ever-growing lust. But I knew I still needed to remove her sodden corset. Taking a steadying breath I turned back to her. She was facing away from me now, and I found that I could easily begin to unfasten the hooks. Then, to my horror she rolled over, pulling herself next to me.

"Erik," she murmured softly, burrowing her face into the cushions. Without even realizing what I was doing, my hand moved down to her cheek once more, lightly stroking her face. My emotions were jumbled, but for once I decided I didn't care. I had been cold for so long, too long.

I finished unhooking her corset, and tossed it into the pile of her other clothes. She arched her back slowly; glad it seemed, to be free from its confinement. I watched her for a few moments, my eyes running over her sheer shift, taking in every inch of her body. I turned from her once more and began to peel off my gloves. My boots soon followed, and I laid down in the small bed with her, allowing myself to hold her. She wasn't Christine, but for tonight at least, she was all I wanted.


	49. Captive

**A/N:**

**Sorry for the delay! Between my computer taking a nose dive and crazy college assignments my poor chapter was put on hiatus. So with out further adu here it is!**

**Thank yor all the reviews Hot4Gerry, and Victoria Feye! Special, special thanks to bastinterest for editing!**

***This isn't a new chapter. But I was using a friends computer to post and it messed up most of the editing! So here is the new and improved version. Thanks for noticing and editing bastinterest!**

**Erik**

I didn't allow myself to stay with her long.

Part of me felt like I was betraying Christine. But another part of me, one that I tried desperately to ignore, was content to hold Elizabeth's warm body close to mine, to listen to her steady, calm, breathing.

Slowly, I unlaced her legs from mine, pushing her gently from me. I didn't want to feel anything for her. I didn't want her to mean anything to me. I didn't want _her._ And yet, I knew that she was what I needed. She was so unlike Christine, calm, collected, quick on her feet, she was so sure of herself. She was never rattled, never intimidated.

But, Elizabeth didn't need to be taken care of. She was self-sufficient. _She didn't need me_. Not like Christine.

Christine from the first had needed special care. She was like a little sunflower forced to grow in the shade. She was always frightened, always too timid to stand up for herself. I knew that if I didn't put her under my sheltering wing, then this world would trample her without a second glance, not even taking a moment to notice the beautiful light it had so cruelly extinguished.

I paced about the small bedroom, my fingers running over the cool stone, lost in my memories. _Christine. My little pupil. My angel of music. _

Elizabeth's low murmur shook me from my reverie. I paused, leaning heavily against the wall, and watched as she pulled herself further under the thick coverlet. One of her delicate arms came to rest by her cheek, her small fingers curling slowly into her palm. I slowly walked back over to the bed, and allowed my hand to run along her face, tracing her elegant neckline.

Yet, this was the woman who had declared love for me. Elizabeth, not Christine. She had faced me without my mask and still found the courage to love me. I pulled my hand away, and stalked out of the small bedroom, my anger blossoming. _I hated her love for me. Why can she, an obscure little maid, love me, when a beauty like Christine, couldn't?_

I had tried for a month to forget her, to push her very existence from my mind. But, try as I might, I couldn't erase the memories of that night. I replayed it relentlessly in my dreams, over and over, her moans, her scent, were still seared deeply into my mind. I knew I still desired her carnally, that much and only that, I allowed myself to admit.

But I wouldn't allow myself to go anywhere near her. _That _would be my penance for my weakness, my damnable, insatiable lust. And it had worked. Then, to my chagrin, my treasonous emotions rose up against within me once more.

I knew full well I didn't love her, but despite this a large part of me decided to claim her as my own. She was _my_ maid. She would belong to no one else. The instant I saw Jean De Perix approach her again I knew that I would brook no rivals. I could have killed him for touching her; I could have killed her for even daring to speak to him.

I paced slowly along the cold walkway, peering into the dim bedroom. Never in my whole wretched existence had I felt so torn. She wasn't Christine; she would never be anything like my darling angel of music. And yet, she had managed to worm her way into my cold, broken heart and beguin to mend what she found thereWhy? Why am I so attracted to her? How is she doing this to me?I paused, running my long fingers through my hair in my frustration.

How dare she do this to me! How could I even let myself feel anything for her? This hadn't been part of the plan. She was my pawn, a tool, nothing more or less. How had she come to mean…No! I desired her, what man wouldn't? She means nothing to you Erik! I wouldn't let her mean anything to me!

_But, _my treacherous thoughts began _she loves you. No one, not even Christine has ever loved you__. _

Snarling angrily I walked down towards the lake, trying to shake off my thoughts. Elizabeth was not Christine. Elizabeth was _not _what I wanted, not what I needed. Christine had loved me, but in her childlike innocence she hadn't realized what love was. If I had just kept her, not let her return to that simpering fop, she would have come to love me.

On a small table by the chilled waters lay my old violin. Gingerly, I raised the small instrument to my chin, pulling the long bow delicately across the strings. A deep calm came over me as I allowed myself to drown in my haunting melody. Music was the only thing that would grant rest to my tired soul, my warring emotions. The notes wrapped themselves slowly over me, covering my hurt, protecting me. Elizabeth, for now, didn't matter.

**Elizabeth**

I awoke with a start. One of my arms, resting in an awkward position, had fallen asleep, and my body screamed at me to rectify the situation. I rolled over, pulling my aching arm next to my face, flexing the numb fingers, trying to coax blood flow back. Only when I burrowed myself under the covers once more, did I notice their color. My blankets were a deep blue, but these were lush, velvety to the touch and blood red.

If I hadn't been fully awake a few moments earlier, I certainly was now. With a gasp I flung the coverlet off me, sitting up in the round bed. _Good Lord! Where am I? _

The room was very dim, with only a few thin taper candles winking at me in the gloom. Long bookshelves ran along the stone wall and tables and chairs where scattered everywhere. Papers were tossed carelessly onto the floor, some marked with musical scores, some with drawings. And there, resting in a small pile, were my clothes. _Well, that explained why I was so cold. _

This must be Erik's home. He must have found me wandering about in the sunken tunnel and decided the most gentlemen-like thing would be to take me back here and remove all my wet clothes. I blushed with shame and anger. _Ungrateful vermin. _

Slowly, I edged my way out of the bed, shivering when my feet hit the cold stone. As quickly, and quietly as I could I padded over to my clothes, swiftly pulling my unbuttoned dress out. The brown fabric was almost dry. _How long have I been down here?_

My cold fingers fumbled over the small buttons, but thankfully they managed to close the final gap. Smoothing down the crinkled fabric I slipped my feet into my small boots, not even bothering to undo the ties. As I fixed my crooked cap I tried to figure out my options. _There had to be someway out of here! But, knowing my wretched luck, I'd most likely managed to sleep most of the morning away._

I gathered the rest of my drying garments into my hands and walked toward the small wrought iron balcony that over looked the lake. Once I stepped out of the bedroom a rich, poignant melody met my ears. Enthralled, I paused, my eyes scanning for any sign of him. But the space by the organ was deserted. The music seemed to be coming from a small room that led deeper into the stone.

But I didn't want to follow that beautiful sound to its source. I had absolutely no desire to see Erik. I hadn't forgotten his rough treatment, or his hateful, spiteful words.

However, I knew that without his help there was no way I would ever find my way out of here.

Not that that stopped me from trying. I walked down to the small lake looking for any sign of an exit, but Erik had designed his hideaway well. The lake seemed to stretch out for an eternity and I wasn't about to take a dunking again.

Exasperated, I flung my clothes down onto the floor and roughly sat down in one of the small chairs. I was fuming, but for the moment I was content to take out my anger on myself. _How had it come to this? Why this man, this manipulative, powerful, and dangerous man? Why was I attracted to him? _

I pulled my knees up to my chin, resting my feet on the edge of the chair, wrapping my arms around my legs. _Despite all of his show, all of his magic tricks and schemes, Erik needed me. If I could, I would have taken all of his hurt and pain onto myself. But, I was in love with a man who didn't love me back. _

"So, I see you've finally decided to wake up."

Startled, I leapt out of my chair, wheeling myself to face him. Erik was sitting casually on the low organ bench, his long legs stretched out in front of him, the violin swinging precariously in his fingers. His shirt was open, baring his muscular chest, exposing his powerful neck and collarbone. His lips curled sensually when he saw my eyes slowly run over his form, and his blue gaze flashed up at me, their depths unfathomable. Despite all my intentions I could feel my pulse begin to quicken, and I desperately looked away from him.

"How long have I been down here?" I asked softly, staring out at the lake.

"It's around ten in the morning," he replied. I heard him sit the violin down and pull his legs closer to his body. I bit my lip worriedly.

"And how do you plan on explaining my disappearance?" I asked.

"That's already been taken care of," he stated, his voice as smooth as silk to my ears.

"How?" I asked, my anger beginning to rise. "Was I smuggled away during the night by the devil himself?"

"Nothing as fanciful as that, my dear. You are merely talking the day to clean La Carlotta's personal apartments. I sent the note to Madame Giry at daybreak." I could hear his smirk in his answer.

I turned to look at him once more.

"I hope La Carlotta doesn't honestly expect that! I have absolutely no intention of going to her home. I'd sooner be out on the street then do that Godforsaken chore!"

He smiled, his lips curving slowly, causing a small shiver to run through me. For a few minutes we just stared at one another, each of us pondering the next move. With a sigh I pulled my gaze away, taking in his small living quarters.

Most of the space was taken up with the large organ, but there were several small tables spread about, each holding different objects. One of the smaller ones held a small box of cigars. After throwing a quick glace at Erik, I rose and made my way over to the table, and picked up the box. The peeling blue paint revealed a small elephant and the spidery words _Gurkha Cigars. _

A small laugh burst from my lips. I lifted the lid and pulled out a long black cigar, running my fingers over it. I watched from the corner of my eye as Erik rose from his stool and paced over to me.

"And what, pray tell, is so funny?" He demanded, his mask gleaming in the candlelight.

"These are the same cigars that my father smoked." I replied, and without thinking, I had responded to him in my native English, my Cockney burr ringing harshly over the lake.

Erik seemed taken aback. For a long moment he just stared, his blue eyes running over me. Then, he pulled the cigar box from my hands and placed it back on the table.

"I forgot that you're English. You're accent is atrocious." His voice was low, and there was something almost relaxing about it.

"Well, there's not much I can do about that." I snapped, walking back to my chair. "I'm from Dover, we all have thick accents there." I pulled the cigar up to my nose, inhaling the rich sent of the tobacco.

"Dover? Where the devil is that?" He asked, turning to me, his visible brow furrowed.

I flipped the cigar lazily in my grip, fingering the small band of paper that marked its make and number. "It's on the coast of England. It's not too far from London, but I've only been there a few times. Father didn't like the city."

I looked up at Erik, and he was still peering at me quizzically. I smiled at his sudden awkwardness.

"Do you want me to tell you about it?" I asked innocently, trying not to laugh at his discomfort. He didn't respond, but picked up a loose set of papers and began to draw lines for a score. I took this as a "yes."

"My father worked in the shipping yards. He was born and bred in Dover and never had any real desire to leave. I suppose, if England were still involved in the Napoleonic wars he would have been a sailor. He loved the sea. My brothers were the same way. They ended up joining him in the yards when they were sixteen."

"Your mother?" Erik asked, never pausing in his work, his hands still swiftly forming bar after bar.

"I never knew her. She died when I was young. She was from York, quite a different environment entirely. But, I suppose she did well. My stepmother is originally from Poitiers, as are all my stepsisters. She's the reason I speak French as fluently as English."

A silence stretched out between us. I leaned back in the small chair, still twirling the cigar in my fingers, lost in memories. Then a thought suddenly hit me.

"Did you know your family?" I asked cautiously, turning my gaze to where he was composing. For a moment he stiffened, his jaw clinched and his fingers balled into tight fists. Then he lifted his head to look at me, his eyes narrowed dangerously but I didn't look away.

"I knew my mother. She wasn't a very kind woman. I never knew my father." He stated coldly, his voice harsh. I could feel the air thrumming with his pent up anger and rage.

"How did you come to live here?" I asked softly, knowing full well that I was treading on thin ice.

"I ran away. I've traveled most of the world looking for a place to call my own, and this," he spread his long arms out, "seems to be the best thing I can find. As delightful as this conversation is Elizabeth, I would be obliged if it ended here." His voice was dark and menacing, and it left no room for argument.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"I do apologize, my dear! Would you have preferred that I left you to die? I can always return you to your original predicament you know." Erik snapped, pushing his composition to the side.

"None of this would've happened if you hadn't called me a loose woman earlier!" I snapped back.

Erik was slipped into a sulky silence at my words, his jaw clinching beneath his mask.

"I…I didn't mean…" he began, one of his hands running through his thick, chestnut hair in his discomfort. "I apologize Elizabeth." He finally spat, his voice thick with some un-named emotion.

"I don't think that you're a monster, Erik." I replied, rising from my little chair and hesitantly walking over to him. He shifted uncomfortably away from me, but didn't make any move to rise. Slowly, I sat down on the stool next to him.

"I don't regret what happened that night a month ago. I've tried to make myself feel guilty, but it never seems to work." I paused, sighing heavily. _Why was I doing this? What difference would it make?_

Erik stiffened at my words, but he didn't lash out. He just sat there, his body thrumming with energy. He was sitting with the left side of his face exposed to me and I hungrily examined every inch of it. His dark brow was furrowed, his blue eyes flashing darkly out at the lake.

_What had we gotten ourselves into?_

Throwing caution to the wind, I slowly reached out to run my fingers along his jaw line. His skin was cool under my fingers and I savored the smooth texture. Then his hand reached up to mine, pulling my fingers away. With a small sigh I turned away from him, and moved to the far end of the stool, burying my face in my hands.

**Erik**

I nearly groaned with pleasure when I felt her delicate hands on my face, slowly, tenderly stroking my skin. No one had ever touched me like that. But I couldn't stand feeling so exposed. It had taken all of my strength to pull her hand away.

Once I removed her hand, Elizabeth pulled away completely, shifting her body as far from me as possible. Silence descended on us, thick and deep. Then, without warning, she dared to vocalize the question that I had been struggling with for so long.

"Why do I want you so badly?" Her voice was thin and tired, but her words made something deep inside me stir and for once I didn't attempt to push down my emotions.

_Perhaps, if I allowed myself to give into my thoughts then my sick fascination with her would come to an end. And, devil take me, I was desperate to take have her again. I was so cold, and I knew that she could warm me for the time being. _

I rose pulled myself swiftly to my feet and moved in front of her. She looked up at me, puzzled, her green eyes shining with unshed tears. Without a word I roughly bundled her into my arms.

"Erik! Erik, stop!" Elizabeth cried, trying to pull herself away, but I pinned her tighter to me. The moment I reached the bed I pushed her down into the soft folds, ignoring her cries of protest.

I tilted her face up to mine, running my thumb over her lower lip. Instantly, Elizabeth stilled, her eyes meeting mine, the green darkening. Then, knowing that I would never allow myself to make the first move, she pulled herself up to me, her lips meeting mine hesitantly.

They were as soft as I had remembered. Hungrily, I kissed her back, my tongue roughly surging past her lips. Then her lips stilled beneath mine.

Elizabeth turned her head from me, her jaw set in defiance. "Why are you doing this? If I don't mean anything to…"

I silenced her protests by resting my finger lightly on her mouth. My mind was hazy with my pulsing desire and I had no desire to pause and fully examine my attraction to her.

As if she sensed my thoughts, Elizabeth put her small palms against my shoulders, attempting to physically push me away. A low snarl rumbled in my throat and I roughly knocked her hands away, pulling her head back to me.

She resisted, trying to squirm away, her green eyes flashing dangerously up at me.

"Erik, stop this now!" She cried, but I could feel her defenses dropping. I pushed her shoulders back onto the cushions, moving my lips to her neck. I kissed a burning line up to her pulse-point, pausing to feel her heartbeat pound wildly against my lips. As I had predicted, she finally gave in, arching herself back into the bed with a low moan. Once I was certain she wouldn't resist again I moved my hands down to her dress, hurriedly unhooking the buttons and pushed the fabric off her.

I pulled my lips away from her soft neck, my hands pulling her silky shift down the length of her. Her long legs were soft, the skin velvety and hot beneath my fingers. Finally I managed to pull the shift off, tossing it onto the floor behind me. I turned back to Elizabeth, wanting to see the woman that was spread so temptingly before me.

Slowly, I allowed my eyes to rove over her lithe form. Her pale skin gleamed brightly in contrast with the lush red pillows; wonderingly, I ran my hand down her side, taking in her petite curves. Elizabeth writhed under my touch, her breathing soft and ragged.

She leaned up, pulling me down to her, her lips insistent on mine. Working swiftly work on my shirt, her fingers deftly pulling the rough linen off my arms. I groaned when our skin made contact, her small small breasts rubbing against me tantalizingly. Her hands tugged at my shoulders, begging me to join her. Turning, I violently pulled off my tall boots, flinging them down beside her discarded shift. Then, I climbed into the large bed, laying my weight on top of her slender frame, savoring the feel of her body beneath mine.

**Elizabeth**

_Why am I letting this happen again? This man has manipulated you, hurt you both mentally and physically and here you are letting him have his way with you again! _

I was disgusted with my behavior, but once his hands and lips began to run over my skin I realized that I was beyond caring. I knew this was the only kind of affection I would receive from him and, damn it all, I wanted him so badly my head was spinning.

His hands roved over my body slowly, almost tenderly and I was gasping and moaning so badly I could barely breathe. When he removed my shift and ran his eyes over me I thought I might burst with my desire. Desperate to feel his skin on mine I harshly tugged his long shirt off and tried to coax him down to me. With a low growl he moved his weight on top of me and I sighed with pleasure.

I pulled his face down to mine, my lips claiming his eagerly. A low rumble of satisfaction echoed in his throat and tenderly I cupped both of my hands to his face, savoring the shift of his jaw. _God, how I loved this man!_

My hands moved down to the front of his trousers, fumbling for the hook. Finally, they snapped open and Erik impatiently kicked his way out of them. He pulled his lips from mine and pinned me aggressively under him, hooking one of my legs over his hip. Then he paused, his clear blue eyes meeting mine for the first time. For a moment we just stared at one another, his eyes searching mine, silently asking how we had allowed this to go so far. Tenderly, I pressed my forehead to his and lifted one hand to cup his masked cheek.

"I love you." I said softly. For a moment he looked angry, a dark flash passing though his blue gaze, then he pushed me back down into the bed, his hand resting heavily on my collarbone.

"I know." He said bleakly. Erik pushed himself into me violently and I cried out with pleasure. He lowered his head to my neck, his breathing hot on my skin. His thrusts were deep and powerful and I was left shuddering in their wake. Erik rose above me again, his teeth clinched, eyes half closed. I turned my head over to one of his arms, kissing my way to his shoulder.

Then, Erik paused and I groaned in agony at this sudden change. I lifted my face up to his, to see his long fingers reaching for my head. With a swift tug he pulled my small cap off, spilling my tawny hair around me. The wavy strands pooled around my chest and back, drowning me in a fountain of auburn. With that one action he had completely exposed me before him. Gently, he pulled a long strand through his fingers, curling it around his hand before releasing it. And then, just as suddenly as his affectionate nature appeared, it left and he continued his rough love-making.

We quickly developed a deep rhythm that we both knew wouldn't last long enough. All too soon it seemed I was trembling with my release and he with his. He collapsed heavily on me, his heart pounding against my ribs. I wrapped my arms around his broad form, trying to savor every inch of him.

His body was well- honed with muscles, all those years scaling flies had made him very physically fit. His legs were long and powerful, as were his broad arms. He was, in most respects, a perfect specimen, everything a man should be. I ran my hands along his back and sides, trying to memorize the feel him.

As soon as my hands began to reach for his face he pulled himself off of me and sat on the edge of the bed, his back to me. With an exasperated sigh I allowed my head to flop back onto the pillows roughly.

Silently, Erik pulled on his dark trousers, smoothing his deep chestnut hair before turning to me. Suddenly embarrassed with at my lack of clothing, I clutched the thick coverlet to me, sitting up.

"It's time for you to return to your duties. I suggest you put your clothes back on." Erik said smartly, his tone dark, and face as hard as the mask he wore.

I bit my lip in annoyance, but nodded at his request. I could tell that he was dangerously close to anger and I had no wish to push him over the edge. As soon as he saw that I would comply he swiftly strode out of the room, not even bothering to put on his discarded shirt.

**p.s. The next chapter might be a few days late, it's Spring Break and I'm going to Houston for a few days. But I won't leave you in suspense for long!**


	50. Demoted

**Thank you for the reviews Hot4Gerry and DancingPuppy1014! And a special thanks to bastinterest for editing! **

**Elizabeth**

As soon as I was dressed Erik quickly led me back to my room. He said nothing to me, and I knew better then to risk his terrible anger by speaking. Our feet echoed dully around against the dripping stones. More thaen once I stumbled into a shallow pool of water, and only then did Erik pause, but he never turned to me. He studiously kept his gaze forward, his shoulders tense under his massive cloak, and once he was satisfied that I was moving again he would continue.

Once we reached the wooden panel that led to my small bedroom Erik hastily flicked the small switch and moved aside, resting his back against the stone, his arms crossed, his face harsh and set. He didn't even look at me. Swallowing my rising emotions I slowly stepped into my room. I heard the mechanical switch groan under his touch once more and turned to peer into the dark hallway. He had been gazing over my shoulder, his blue eyes dark, but now suddenly he looked straight at me. I gasped audibly, my body arching backwards, further into the room. I refused to pull lower my gaze away, and instead I lifted my chin defiantly, my eyes narrowing.

His blue eyes coldly swept over me, taking in every inch, until they reached my face. For a moment his brow furrowed, and he took a small step towards me. But as soon as this burst of emotion appeared, it dissipated once more and he moved further back into the hallway, his face hidden from me in the gloom, until the panel closed and hid him completely from my view.

Once I heard the snip of the latch I buried my face in my hands and sank heavily to the floor. _Why? Why did I keep letting him take advantage of me? How has this escalated this far? _

I stretched my feet out in front of me, leaning my back against the wall for support. I tilted my head back, lifting my gaze to the ceiling. _This relationship is headed nowhere, fast. _I sighed, running my fingers through my loose hair. _Not that it was going anywhere to begin with. So far I'm the only one with my heart on my sleeve. _

Biting my lower lip worriedly, I turned to gaze at the small clock that stood on my dresser. The peeling numbers read a quarter 'till two in the afternoon. I let out another low sigh. No doubt, no doubt at all, there was still a lot of work to be done. Reluctantly, I pulled myself to my feet once more and set about finding a clean change of clothes.

My fingers unsteadily hooked the buttons on my fresh red gown, and I peered down at the fading black print, trying to distract myself from my jumbled thoughts. As soon as the last button was finished, I quickly began to pin my long hair into its usual bun. I bent my head down so I could easily gather up any loose strands before I slipped on a newly starched cap, mechanically running my fingers beneath the fabric, checking to make sure that none of my hair was visible. Once I was satisfied, I grabbed my small brown apron from the edge of my dresser and swiftly made my way out into the main hallway.

On a whim, I decided to make a quick stop in the kitchens to check up on my stepmother and stepsisters. Lunch would be over soon and I knew that there were always plenty of dirty dishes to help clean.

I pushed one of the large double doors open and slowly made my way over to one of the countertops, perching on a small stool to wait for my stepmother to leave the dining area. A large loaf of bread rested on one of the far tables, by but I was too anxious to eat. Unconsciously I began to jiggle one of my legs, tapping my foot against the floor, my mind replaying the events of the previous night with vigor.

I was so distracted I hadn't even heard little Madeline come into the kitchens. Her small tap on the shoulder caused me to jolt abruptly to my feet, knocking over the stool in my wake.

"Oh, Madeline!" I cried out, reaching down to pick up the small wooden stool. "I'm sorry, dearest, I didn't even know you were there!"

"It's alright. I should have said something. I could tell that you were upset," she replied softly, pulling a chair over to the counter so she could sit by me.

"No, no. You're fine." I smiled at her. It was no fault of hers that I was so preoccupied. Madeline gave me a small grin, but it didn't seem to reach her eyes fully. She also seemed to be paler then usual, her rosy glow buried beneath her chalky completion.

"Are you feeling alright?" I asked, reaching out my hand to feel her forehead. Her skin was cool under my fingers. Relieved, I dropped my hand back into my lap.

"I'm just tired. I didn't sleep too well last night,." she replied, shrugging her small shoulders. "It must the change in temperature. I always seem to get sick in the springtime."

I nodded my assent. Madeline had never been a very robust, even as a little child she always seemed to sicken more frequently than the rest of us.

"Perhaps it will pass sooner rather then later!" I said cheerfully. "It won't do to have you laid up during the new dance rehearsals for Vivaldi's _Ercole su'l Termodonte__. _I hear that Madame Giry plans for your corp to play the role of the Amazons."

"Yes," Madeline began, her forehead creasing. "Madame Giry didn't want me to…"

"Ah, there you are Elizabeth!" Aunt Maria's shrill voice echoed, cutting off Madeline in mid-sentence. With a loud sigh I turned to face my aunt. She was wearing a low cut yellow evening gown, one that was far too fine for a lady of her class, despite all of her airs of nobility.

"Where did you get that gown?" I asked sharply, raising my eyes to hers.

"Oh, this old thing? Why Monsieur Cabartte was kind enough to pick this up for me in Versailles last month," she simpered, her many chins wobbling.

"Why would a patron of his stature buy you a dress?" I snapped. I didn't much like the sound of this. If Cabartte was buying her dresses, with a wife still living, with what else was he supplying my greedy aunt with?

"I would mind that tongue of yours, Elizabeth," Aunt Maria said softly, flicking one of her blonde curls out of her face. "Monsieur Cabartte has been most kind to Aloysia and me, over the past few months. I don't think it would be in your best interest to speak to me in this manner any longer. Remember, I do have noble blood. While you…"

"Was there something you needed?" I asked though clenched teeth, trying to contain my rising anger.

"Yes, now that you mention it! You will clean our apartments,." Aunt Maria said with a small laugh, lowering her large frame into one of the chairs, her dress floating out beneath her.

"I will do no such thing," I snarled. _How dare she? What right does she have to ask me to clean her bloody rooms? She was hired on with the same terms we were for, Christ's sake! _

"Yes, you will. You cleaned Carlotta's apartments earlier today. I can't see any reason why you can't clean ours. I expect you up there in twenty minutes," she replied, smilingly, her yellow teeth gleaming in her chubby face.

"I won't. You can clean your own damned rooms!" I replied, my voice like ice. But it seemed that Aunt Maria had expected this.

"You will do as I say or I will have you thrown out onto the streets," she yelled, her voice echoing shrilly.

"If you think that…"

"Don't push me to have your stepfamily thrown out as well, Elizabeth!" she cut me off harshly, rising to stand and moving in front of me.

"Cabartte has placed me as head of all the maids and staff in the opera house. Your family's fate rests in my hands. Now go clean my rooms!" Aunt Maria screamed, her eyes bulging in her face.

Stiffly, I pulled myself off the stool and turned to face her.

"This is the first and _only _time I will do this. I don't care if God himself placed you in charge of this opera house. I will not stoop to do your bidding," I replied harshly, my body quivering in my rage.

"We shall see," Aunt Maria said, a horrible grin spreading its way across her face. "Begin on the room. I will join you in a moment to give you further instructions." And with that she swept out of the kitchens, leaving Madeline and me alone once more.

"Oh! That horrid, horrid woman!" Madeline cried, running over to give me a swift hug. "I'm so sorry she yelled at you like that Lizzy. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I'm sorry I lost my temper in front of you, dearest," I said softly, hugging her back. "But I better get going before she returns."

"Do you want me to help?" Madeline asked, helping me gather my brooms and mops together.

"No, no, you stay here. There's no reason for you to get pulled into all of this. But thank you for the offer," I replied, pumping soapy water into the small mop bucket.

Madeline nodded and sat back down on her chair, watching me precariously gather my supplies into my arms. Before I left the kitchens I paused to give her a small peck on the forehead.

"Get better, sweetheart," I said softly, and Madeline grinned weakly up at me.

"I hope I do soon! Here, I'll get the door for you."

I slowly made my way down the long hallways, and up the steep staircase that led to Aloysia's and Aunt Maria's large suite of rooms. Once I reached their doorway I unceremoniously flung my broom and mop bucket down and knocked on the large mahogany frame. Aloysia answered the door, her golden ringlets bouncing about her face.

"There you are! Mother said you were coming to clean. Do hurry, I have to be at rehearsal in a moment," Aloysia said, flouncing back to her pink reclining couch.

Rolling my eyes I began to sweep the floors, pushing the dirt and dust into a small pile in the middle of the room. Their apartments were covered with rich furnishings and trinkets, all much too fine for their income. I glanced over at Aloysia while I swept around a large Persian rug. Perhaps she could give me some clues as to how their status had grown so quickly.

"Who paid for these rooms?" I asked quietly, praying that for once she would be of some help.

"Whoever leaves us the bundle of francs every month. Mama used to talk to him every week or so, but he doesn't come around too much anymore,." Aloysia said absently, twirling one of her curls on a long finger.

"You never see him anymore?" I asked, looking up from my broom. _What was Erik up to now?_

"We didn't for awhile. But just the other day he told Mama he was going to promote me to head of the corps de ballet! Madeline will have to step down, of course, but Mama said he already had her moved to the back of the class."

"He did what?" I asked, my voice sharp with my annoyance. _How dare Erik move stupid, whining Aloysia to the head of the class! Why on earth did he demote Madeline? Damn him! _

"There's no need to shout Lizzy! Honestly! Mama says I have ten times the talent that Madeline has, so it's for the best,." Aloysia said, her pretty face contorting in her anger.

"Aloysia," I began, but Aunt Maria sweeping loudly into the room, slamming the door in her wake, interrupting me.

"Be careful of the rug, Elizabeth! I don't want you ruining any of my belongings," Aunt Maria snapped, moving to sit next to Aloysia.

Biting my lip, I quickly turned back to sweeping, hoping that the two of them would leave soon. For a few minutes all was quiet, but just when I was beginning to calm down, Aunt Maria spoke.

"I don't understand what Cabartte sees in you. You're one of the ugliest creatures I've ever seen. But the poor man is under so much strain, so he must not be in his right mind."

Abruptly, I paused in my cleaning and turned to face the pair of them.

"Why did you try to destroy box five?" I asked sharply. Aunt Maria's eyes bulged in her shock.

"What on earth are you talking about? Stop this now! You're supposed to be cleaning!" She squawked, her chins quivering in her anger.

"Why are you associating with him? You are aware that he's married?." I replied, knowing that I was walking into dangerous territory. Aunt Maria could be quite formidable when her temper was up, but I wanted to get to the bottom of her association with Cabartte.

"Of course I know he's married! You wouldn't understand. You're too stupid. Cabartte has been the most wonderful man to Aloysia and me. And you, you've been trying to ruin him!" Aunt Maria replied, gesturing for Aloysia to stand.

"I've tried to ruin him? What on earth are you talking about?" I asked, flabbergasted.

"You tried to lure him into an affair! Oh, he's told me all about you, and poor man wants to help you! Even after you offered your body to him, like a common whore!" Aunt Maria screeched, moving to stand.

"I did no such thing! Cabartte, that kind, helpful man, tried to rape me!" I cried. But the moment the words were out of my mouth I knew I'd gone too far. Aunt Maria was in front of me in an instant. Her quivering face was inches from mine, her foul breath pulsing hot on my cheeks.

"How dare you insult him so, you slut!" And with that final yell she slapped me full across the face. One of her large rings cut me sharply across the cheek, and hit the corner of my lips, drawing blood. Instantly, my hand went up to my face trying to cover the injury.

"That should teach you to talk about him in such a fashion!" Aunt Maria snapped, pushing past me harshly. "Come Aloysia, you need to get to your practice. We will be back in three hours. I expect to find this room spotless when I return." And with out so much as a backwards glance they swept out into the hallway.

Once I was sure they were gone, I walked over to the reclining couch and sat down, cupping my hand to my bleeding face. The open cut stung painfully, and I removed my hand, trying to decide on the best course of action. I looked over at my mop bucket. _At least the water will clean the wound. _I was just about to stand when I felt a smooth gloved hand grip my chin, turning my face around.

Erik was sitting inches from me, his face tense and unreadable. His blue eyes quietly took in the cut that Aunt Maria had left, and slowly, almost tenderly, he ran drew his hand down the side of my face.

"You asked for this this, you know," he said quietly, but his rich voice had a mocking tone.

"I asked for it?" I intoned, beginning to pull myself away from him, but his other hand tightened on the back of my neck, warning me to be still.

"Don't move again," he said replied firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. Swiftly, he pulled a small handkerchief out of his cloak and moved over to the mop bucket, dunking the white cloth into the water. He moved back in front of me, pulling me to my feet.

"This will sting," he said and pushed placed the wet cloth against my skin. The instant I felt the burn of the lye soap I tried to pull away, but once more Erik held the back of my neck. Once he was sure I wouldn't attempt to move again he began to wipe the handkerchief down my face, following the cut. He repeated this movement a few times, making sure that the wound was clean, before he wordlessly tossed it down onto the floor.

My heart was pounding violently against my ribcage, my knees trembling under me, but somehow I managed to contain my mounting emotions. I looked up at Erik. His blue gaze met mine for a moment, and silently he ran the back of his fingers along the cut.

"Thank you," I whispered, slowly pulling face from his touch. Erik abruptly moved away from me, pacing to the other side of the room. I was about to turn back to my chores when I suddenly remembered Aloysia's comment.

"You moved Madeline to the back of her class," I stated, moving to sit on the couch once more. He turned his head to face me, the white of his mask gleaming in the candlelight.

"I need to keep your aunt under close watch," he said, his eyes narrowing at me.

"But why move Madeline? You know she's the best dancer out there. How did Madame Giry let you get away with that?" I asked quickly, leaning forward.

"Your aunt, as I'm sure you know, needs to be flattered. This was the easiest way for me to do it. By moving Aloysia forward I can sway her back to me," he replied, turning away from me once more.

"But at what cost? Why Madeline? What has she done?" I asked, my exasperation beginning to show.

"Your stepsister hasn't been doing well the past few weeks. She's becoming much weaker," Erik replied, moving across the room to one of the large mirrors.

"Weaker? What are you talking about? Madeline has been doing fine!" I cried, moving to my feet.

Suddenly Erik turned to face me, and I could have sworn that his eyes echoed something like compassion.

"Lizzy, your step-sister is dying. There's no point in pretending otherwise. I would give her a week at most."


	51. Trying to Understand

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews and thank you BastInterest for editing during your crazy spring break!**

**Erik**

_This had to end_.

Elizabeth frantically clutched the velvet covers to her breast, her auburn waves draping seductively about her shoulders. I swiftly turned, burying my emotions deep within myself. She had served her purpose.

I could feel her eyes burning into my bare back as I stalked from the small bedroom, but I refused to look at her. Grabbing up my discarded cloak, I wrapped the thick fabric about myself, fully immersing myself in the persona of the Opera Ghost. Erik, I knew, couldn't withstand his mortal desires, but the Phantom had the power to drown out everything else, to erase all human weaknesses. So I waited, my energy thrumming heavily about me, pulsing out all traces of my desire for Elizabeth, for anyone.

Finally, she emerged. Her brown dress hung loosely on her slight frame and she hadn't bothered to pull her hair up into her cap in her rush. The long curls were hanging around her, creating a halo of color on her otherwise pale form.

She was biting on her lip nervously, her green eyes flashing to meet mine timidly. I carefully avoided her gaze and gestured for her to follow me. Stepping over my scattered belongings we made our way to the small gondola that was moored by the side of the lake. I was hesitant to have her sit on the small cushions that had supported Christine so long ago, but the boat granted the swiftest passage out of my labyrinth and I found that I wanted, needed, Elizabeth out of my sight as soon as possible.

Grabbing up the thick rope that held the small craft to the stone launch I paused, waiting for her to step in. She remained still for a moment, looking questioningly at the gondola then she turned to face me.

Her green eyes met mine for the briefest instant before I turned my head away from her, but I still managed to glimpse the pain that was reflected in them. With a low snarl, I gestured for her to step in and after a sigh of resignation she complied, her weight causing the boat to rock gently. Once she had settled herself in the small seat I leaped on the platform and drove the rowing stick deep into the murky waters, pushing us forward.

Elizabeth was silent on the short ride, keeping her head facing forward, but I could see her delicate shoulders shaking under her thick hair. Taking a steadying breath I moved the small craft even faster through the waters, trying to ignore the disgusting wave of pity that I felt for this woman.

As soon as the gondola scraped the shore I jumped out, moving slowly down one of the dark passageways, not even waiting to see if she made it out of the boat. We moved silently along, my feet making no noise on the stone, and her footsteps only audible when she tripped. I paused each time I heard her splash into a pool of water, wanting to make sure that she didn't loose sight of me. _It wouldn't do to have her wandering around down here again_.

Methodically, I counted the panels that lined the stonewall, halting when I reached number 34, the panel that would lead to her room. My long fingers reached out to flick the small switch that would activate the machine. Once I heard the groan of the wheels running along their small track, I leaned back against the wall, waiting for her to step into her bedroom.

Elizabeth slowly stepped forward then turned to face me, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. For a moment I couldn't bring myself to look away, and then to my horror I began to take a step towards her. But as soon as my treacherous foot moved I caught myself and slunk back into the shadows until the panel closed and hid her from my view.

With a deep sigh I moved away from the wall and began my decent to my home. I knew there was no point in avoiding her.

I now realized that the longer I went without seeing her the less control I would have over my emotions. Perhaps, if I kept a closer eye on her I might be able to quench this sick fascination. _Besides, _I told myself, _she always seemed to be in the thick of the activities with Cabartte. She just might lead me in the right direction with him. _

I followed her as soon as she stepped out of her rooms.

I watched, amused, as she confronted her aunt, and as she reluctantly began to clean her squalid rooms. But I soon found that my humor drained when that damned woman struck her violently. It had taken all of my strength not to burst into the room and strangle that woman.

_She dared to touch my property?_

Elizabeth recovered swiftly however, lifting her small chin defiantly and held her ground while the two left the room. But, as soon as the door shut I watched with mute horror and sorrow as she collapsed onto the couch, tears falling silently down her cheeks.

Sighing, I pushed open the large mirror and stepped into the suite. She was so preoccupied that she didn't notice my presence until my hand softly cupped her chin. Her startled gaze met mine and she instantly tried to pull away. Lifting my other gloved hand to the back of her neck I gently held her still.

To my relief, the cut wasn't deep and I moved over to her mop bucket, wetting my handkerchief in the soapy solution before moving back to her. She struggled when she felt the sting of the soap on her, but I held her firmly with my hand.

_It wouldn't do to have her getting an infection from her wound, _I told myself bitterly, trying to justify why I even gave a damn.

As soon as I moved the cloth away from her she instantly went on the attack.

"Why have you moved her to the back of the class? You know she's the best dancer out there," she cried, her face echoing her confusion and hurt. For a moment I started at her incredulously. _Did she really not know? How has she not seen how badly that child has progressed in her illness? _Slowly I moved over to the large mirror, wanting nothing more than to escape her frantic questions.

"Lizzy, your stepsister is dying." I said dully, pushing the mirror aside, wanting to be as far from her as possible, hating myself for being so callous, but also hating her for making me care.

**Elizabeth**

My breath came out in frantic pants and I collapsed on the floor, trying to contain rising hysteria. Tears, hot and swift, fell down my face and I didn't even bother to knock them away.

"_Your stepsister is dying." _

Erik's words echoed over and over in my head, and I frantically put my hands over my ears, trying to cover the sound. _This wasn't happening!_

Madeline had been becoming noticeably paler over the weeks, but I had attributed it all to the winter chill that still lingered in the air. And not even two weeks ago, she had decided to begin dancing again. At first she had been very unsteady on her feet, but she had soon mastered herself and was able to pirouette and chase with the best of the other girls. She had been steadily getting better, not worse. Perhaps Erik was wrong.

_He had to be wrong! How on earth could he make such an assumption? _

I shook my head. _Madeline had been improving! And who was he to make such a dire diagnosis?_

Slowly, my tears slowed and my breathing returned to its normal pattern. Madeline was just getting a cold. She was always sick during the springtime. Reassured at last, I moved to my feet and began to clean with vigor. I knew that the rehearsal would be over soon and I had no desire to have another confrontation with Aunt Maria.

The kitchens were humming with activity when I entered them again, exhausted from my cleaning.

Judging from the state of her belongings, it appeared that Aunt Maria hadn't bothered to dust in ages, and it had taken me hours to clean the thick layer of grime off of everything. Tossing my now empty mop bucket to the side, I paced over to the small table where Renee was cutting up chickens for our supper.

"Oh, hello there, Lizzy!" Renee called, a throwing a large smile my way. "Would you mind helping me? I've never been very good at quartering chickens, and yours are always so perfect."

"Of course," I replied, donning a clean apron over my dress and washing my hands in the nearby basin. Renee scooted over to one side, leaving me ample room to cut my own small collection of chickens. For a few minutes we worked in silence, our hands busy cutting and pulling apart the tender meat. Suddenly a thought hit me.

_Perhaps Renee will know more about Madeline. Her chores always put her in more contact with my stepfamily then my own daily tasks._

"Renee, have you noticed any changes in Madeline lately?" I asked softly, not wanting to sound too worried. Renee paused in her cutting for a moment, thoughtfully studying the window in front of her while she pondered her answer.

"Hmm. She has been rather pale lately, but she's always sick this time of year," Renee said, turning to look at me, puzzled. "Why? Do you think she might be relapsing?"

"I'm not sure, honestly," I replied, dumping my newly cut chicken into a large baking dish.

"Lizzy, you're worried about it, I can tell. Have you noticed anything different about her?" Renee asked, putting her knife down and turning to face me. I shook my head, and tried to figure out how to best let Renee know about Erik's warning.

"I…I don't think that she looks too different. But, someone else believes that she's steadily becoming gravely ill," I replied as quietly as I could, moving some of Renee's uncut fowl over to my cutting board to finish.

"Someone? Who is this someone?" Renee asked, leaning closer to me, her long black hair falling over her shoulder.

"He sometimes watches the practices," I replied, wishing I hadn't brought the subject up. I should have known that Renee would be curious.

"Oh, a new _Patron_ perhaps?" Renee asked, helping me to move the chicken over to the large ovens.

"Yes, perhaps," I said noncommittally, wanting to move to a different topic.

"Wait! Lizzy, is this the man that you're…" but thankfully Renee's question was cut off by Peter DePerix rushing into the kitchens and pulling her into a swift embrace.

"Hello, my love!" he cried, hugging her tightly to him. "And hello to you as well Lizzy! My, it's been awhile since I've seen you! Would you mind pardoning us for a moment?" Peter asked, ever the polite gentlemen.

"Not at all," I smiled, taking Renee's bowl of chicken from her. I watched with in amusement as the two walked over to a secluded corner of the kitchens, deep in conversation.

The rest of the evening passed quickly. My stepmother found me trying to help with the cooking and shooed me off to one of the tables.

"Goodness, Lizzy! You do enough around here! You don't need to help with the cooking as well. Now, go sit down and rest," she cried, giving me a quick peck on the cheek.

Dinner was a success, as usual, and all of the stagehands, dancers, singers, and maids left with full, contented bellies. As soon as the kitchens cleared I set about making my special tea once more, carefully hiding the tea leaves in a small jar until the water was ready. I chatted with Sophie for a moment while I waited for the water to finish boiling.

"I've already asked Renee, but have you noticed any change in Madeline?" I asked, praying that perhaps nothing was amiss after all.

"No. She seems fine," Sophie replied, hopping up on the countertop, her small feet dangling under her. "But I have an important question for you, Lizzy! Has my mysterious tutor mentioned anything to you about future lessons for me?"

"I'm afraid not. But I can ask him if he will teach you again if you'd like," I replied, walking over to the stove to remove the steaming teakettle.

"Oh, would you please! I miss singing," Sophie cried, clapping her hands together in delight.

"Of course I will, dearest!" I said, pouring the hot water into the waiting teacup.

Gingerly, lifting the small porcelain cup into my cold hands I bid Sophie goodnight and began the long walk to my room. The moon had long since risen in the sky and its pale glow reflected eerily against the dark wood. But I was content to walk leisurely, not wanting to spill any of the precious liquid.

Once I reached my doorway, I carefully balanced the teacup in my left hand and turned the knob. To my surprise, several taper candles were glowing brightly and there was a rich smell of incense and tobacco hanging in the air.

Carefully shutting the door behind me I scanned the room for any sign of Erik. It didn't take me long to spot his powerful form, resting in my small arm chair, Moppet draped gracefully across his lap. I gulped. _What is he up to now?_

"What are you doing here, Erik?" I asked quietly, placing my teacup on my tiny table by my bedside.

"Composing. Silence would be appreciated," he replied darkly, not even bothering to look up from his thin paper, his pen scratching frantically over the parchment.

Rolling my eyes and sighing at his insane and confusing behavior I picked up my latest novel, _Wuthering Heights, _and curled myself on my bed, sipping my tea quietly. For a long while the only noise in the room was the steady whisper of my turning pages, and the low scribbling of his pen.

Though my mind was still turning over his prediction about Madeline, I soon found myself utterly caught up in the escapades of Kathy and the dark Heathcliff and absently raised my hand to rub my cheek. The instant my fingers touched the cut I hissed in pain.

"I wouldn't touch it if I were you," Erik's rich voice called, startling me.

"I didn't mean to," I replied acidly, tossing my book down on the bed and walking over to my small washing basin. Pouring some of the water on a nearby cloth I dabbed at the open wound, trying to sooth the painful burning sensation.

"Put soap on that rag," Erik said, still furiously working on his score, his head bent over his work. Grumbling, I did as he instructed and worked a good lather up before cleaning the cut again.

"Why did you say that Madeline is dying?" I asked, wincing as the soap came in contact with my exposed skin.

"Because she is," he replied simply, finally lifting his head to look at me. I turned to face him, trying to figure out if this was another one of his manipulative tricks, but Erik's blue gaze met mine steadily, their depths dark.

"Of what? She's been improving!" I cried, coming to sit on my bed once more. Erik leaned back into his chair, laying his work on his lap, disturbing Moppet. The small white cat hissed at this outrage and leapt over to my bed, curling up by my side. Absentmindedly, I began to stroke her smooth fur waiting with baited breath for Erik to answer me.

"Lizzy, your stepsister has consumption. Paris is not the ideal climate for her condition and in her weakened state she has contracted a bad cold. Her lungs won't be able to take the strain for much longer," Erik replied softly, his tone dark and foreboding.

I blanched at his words, clutching at my breast. _Consumption? I had heard of the disease before, who hadn't? But Madeline was still young! Perhaps…_

"Surely her youth will help her recover?" I asked, my voice a small croak.

"She is frail and sickly. She will die," Erik answered, slowly gathering his papers together and rising to leave.

"Erik, wait!" I cried, moving over to him. Erik paused at the sound of my voice, but immediately backed away from my advancing form.

"She won't die! I know she won't! You're wrong, there's no way…"

Erik's chilling voice cut me off in mid-sentence. "She _is _dying. I've seen this disease too many times before to not know its symptoms. Your stepsister is weakening by the day; she will not last much longer. I'm sorry, Lizzy. There is nothing that you can do. You had best prepare yourself."

I shrank back at his words; tears beginning to fall uncontrollably down my cheeks. My hands rose to cover my mouth, and I looked up at him pleadingly. Erik's entire being seemed to slacken, his arms hanging loosely by his sides. His eyes met mine, and the pity that shone in them was unmistakable. He began to step towards me but stopped himself, turning abruptly on his heel, his long fingers reaching for the switch on the wall.

"Please," I called weakly to him, slowly sinking onto my bed. "Erik, please don't leave me."

He turned, his body tense, thrumming with energy. Slowly, deliberately, he walked over to the bed and knelt in front of me. For a moment he was silent, and it was almost as if he was fighting some internal battle, his face tense, his eyes avoiding mine. Finally, he brought his gloved hand up to my cheek wiping away my tears.

"Don't leave me alone," I whispered, turning my face into his palm. Erik was still for an endless moment, his gaze bleak and unreadable. Then he rose and came to stand by the wall, one of his hands pressed to his temple, the other bracing him against the plaster. I could hear his heavy breathing, and I knew then that his mind was made up.

Wordlessly, he tucked his papers under his arm once more and hit the metal switch. I buried my face in my hands, my weeping becoming more and more frantic. The panel slowly slid back and he stepped into the darkness, leaving me completely and utterly alone in my grief.


	52. An Unexpected Trip

**Thank you for all of the reviews and special thanks to bastinterest for a reviewing!**

**Elizabeth**

After the sudden deaths of my father and brothers, I had always wondered if knowing that someone was about to die made their passing easier on loved ones. Now, with Madeline, I had my answer.

I watched with mute desperation as Erik paced from my bedroom, his newly donned cape swirling about him, making him look like something loosed from the ninth gate of Hell. He didn't even pause to look back at me.

The instant the panel shut behind him the crushing weight of his prophecy hit me full tilt. Hysteria rose in me like some deep, unseen beast, preying on my weak defenses, ripping me apart piece by fragile piece.

I didn't attempt to stop my tears; instead I let them roll fast and heavy down my face, dripping silently on my clinched fists. _What good did it do? Madeline, my little Madeline was dying. My resolve didn't matter anymore, so where would suppressing my emotions get me? _

Shaking uncontrollably I tumbled onto my bed, curling myself into a small ball by the bedpost. I felt like I was smashing into a thousand pieces. It was like losing my father all over again.

The hours passed slowly. My hysteria dissipated, and I could catch my breath easier. But there was nothing I could do to stop my tears. My pillow was soaked with them, my face chapping at the constant moisture. I felt like I was slowly losing my mind. I had to get out of this room.

Struggling to my feet I draped one of my heavy shawls about my shaking shoulders and mindlessly made my way out into the darkened hallway. I had no idea of my destination. All I knew was that I desperately needed to talk to someone. My boots tapped lightly on the newly polished wood, but other then their small sound the opera house was as still as a tomb.

Then, suddenly, I realized whom I could bring my troubles to. Instantly calmed, I turned my wavering feet towards the kitchens. Trembling, I paused outside of her door, hoping that she was still awake. I knocked softly against the wood, wincing as the small noise reverberated around me.

"Yes? Who is it?" my stepmother called from inside, her voice drifting over to the doorway.

"It's me step-mamma," I replied, my voice raspy.

The door was flung open instantly, and I stumbled inside and into her outstretched arms.

"Oh, my darling!" she cried, pulling me into a tighter hug. "Whatever is the matter?"

I shook my head wordlessly, my emotions threatening to overpower me once more. Biting on my lower lip I managed to quell my swiftly rising tears. Seeing my distress my stepmother gently led me over to her small bed, helping me to sit.

"Why, Lizzy! What has happened?" she asked again, placing her warm hands over my cold ones, squeezing them reassuringly. I looked up at her worried face and tried to smile at her, but I found I lacked the energy. With a low sigh I rested my head on her shoulder, feeling more and more alone with every passing second.

It was in that moment that I knew I couldn't bring myself to tell her about Madeline. How could I? It would tear her up if she knew that her little girl was dying, and I wasn't about to place that heavy burden on her.

"It's just work," I stammered, wiping my tears off my cheeks roughly. _Get control of yourself, Lizzy!_

_ "My poor, Lizzy," she replied gently, turning to face me. "Don't worry, De Perix assured me just the other day that he would be hiring new maids to help you. I know you have it on much harder terms then the rest of us, and for that I'm deeply sorry."_

I nodded at her words. _Oh step-mama! If only I could tell you everything!_

_"This too shall pass?" I quoted, leaning to rest on her comforting shoulder once more._

_ "Indeed it shall," she said quietly, hugging me to her. "Now, let's see if I can't get your mind off of your troubles! I believe that, for once, I know something you don't!"_

"What?" I asked, hoping that this would be a piece of good news. Smiling at my ignorance, my stepmother continued.

"I will tell all in just a moment," she said, gesturing for me to turn my back to her. "First, I should like to plait your hair. It looks like it's been ages since you've taken proper care of it! And popping it into that stiff cap doesn't help much," she said, removing my starched cap. Tenderly, she gathered my long strands into her hands, preparing to weave them into a long braid.

Her smooth motions soon relaxed me and I wrapped my hands around her bedpost, propping my feet on her coverlet, just like I had done when I was a little girl. It felt like ages had passed since we had all still lived in that little house by the English Channel, and my stepsisters and I would all crowd into my stepmother's bedroom for our nightly discussions.

"I've missed seeing you, Lizzy," she said picking up a comb from her bedside table and running it through my auburn waves.

"I know," I replied guiltily, ducking my head slightly. "I need to try and make more time for all of you."

"I know that you're busy dearest," she replied, placing her hand on the top of my head and raising it back up. "Now, I'm sure you're wondering what my news is."

"I am! What has happened? It isn't bad is it?" I asked worriedly, turning my head to face her. Sighing playfully my stepmother turned my head back around again.

"Be still! I had quite forgotten that you aren't very patient with this! It's not bad news at all; well, at least I hope it isn't," she replied, beginning to plait my hair tightly together.

"What do you mean?" I asked, trying to quell my urge to turn and face her again.

"Peter DePerix has proposed to Renee," she said, her joy clearly audible in her tone.

"Oh, that's wonderful news!" I cried, a large smile slowly making its way across my face.

"It is indeed! Renee is very excited, as is Peter. The only thing is - " I cut her off hastily, suddenly realizing that this news might prove irksome to DePerix.

"DePerix might not allow them to wed," I finished for her, gripping the bedpost more tightly.

"Exactly. Though I don't see how Peter could refuse his father, he might be able to convince him of Renee's worth some other way," my stepmother continued. I nodded silently, trying to see some sort of solution for this predicament.

"Peter is the youngest of his family," I stated quietly. "And as such he stands a better chance of making a life for himself since he has two older brothers who can carry on the more important titles."

"Those were my thoughts exactly," she replied, tucking my completed braid over my shoulder. Smiling, I lovingly ran my fingers over her beautiful work.

"Thank you," I said, turning to hug her once more. She clutched me to her and kissed my forehead again.

"I don't know what I shall do without my Renee," she began softly, dabbing at her tear-filled eyes with a small handkerchief. "It's so difficult parting with ones children. I always knew that this day would come, and I am truly overjoyed for her, but how I shall miss her when she is gone."

"Oh step-mama," I cried, hugging her to me. "Renee wouldn't go too far away! Besides, you don't loose a daughter you gain a son, remember?"

"Of course," she replied quietly, cupping my cheek with her hand, but she pulled back when she noticed my cut.

"What happened to your cheek, Lizzy?" she cried, turning my face into the light so she could see it better.

"Aunt Maria's ring," I replied bitterly, biting my lip in annoyance.

"She was on the war path earlier today. I should have known that she would take her anger out on you," she replied, shaking her head. "It looks like you've taken care to clean it well."

"Yes, E…I mean I figured it would be wise to prevent any kind of infection." I finished, mentally scolding myself up for almost slipping and saying Erik's name.

"Good girl," she said tapping me lightly on the tip of my nose. "But it's late and I don't want to keep you up. I know you'll have another full day ahead of you tomorrow."

Nodding, I rose to my feet and walked over to her door, pausing before I turned the handle to look back at her.

"Goodnight, step-mama," I said, smiling at her.

"Goodnight, Lizzy. Sleep well and I will see you in the morning," she replied coming to close the door behind me.

It was a long and restless night. I tossed and turned, trying to force myself into some semblance of sleep, or at the very least, relaxation. But no matter how hard I tried, I still couldn't push Erik's words from my head. Every time I shut my eyes I could see Madeline resting in a small coffin, her face forever trapped in repose. Finally giving up I grabbed up a nearby novel and frantically tried to bury myself in the world that was locked within its pages, silently watching the minutes tick by.

Morning dawned slowly, and by the time my clock struck five I was already changing into a new working gown, desperate to escape the confines of my room. I was just about to tuck my hair up into my customary cap when a loud knocking at my door interrupted me. Dropping my cap onto my bed I walked over to the door, opening it just enough to see out into the hallway. I groaned with agitation when Aloysia began to push her way in my room.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, moving away from her bouncing form.

"Mama wants to see you!" she cried, clapping her hands together.

"Stop bounding about," I snapped, moving over to my small basin, splashing some of the cold water on my face. "Now," I began, wiping my wet face with a nearby towel, "what does she want? I'm not about to do any more of your neglected chores."

"No, no! It's about something much, _much _more important!" she squeaked, resuming her bobbing, hopping from one dainty foot to the other.

"What is it then?" I hissed. _I don't have time for this!_

_"Oh, Lizzy! Just come on! Stop acting like a simpleton!" Aloysia cried, and grabbed my arm, pulling me forward._

"Aloysia, stop this!" I said, knocking her hand off my wrist. "I'm not moving another inch until you tell me what this is about."

"Oooh! Why do you always have to be so difficult?" she said, stomping her foot on the wood floor. "It's about you. Mama has a question for you."

Sighing heavily I finally gave in. I knew I would have more luck getting a rock to speak then having Aloysia properly explain anything to me_._

_"Alright, alright! I'm coming," I said, grabbing up my cap and following Aloysia into the hallway. Once more I found myself taking the winding stairs up to Aunt Maria's horrid suite of rooms. __This had better be worth my while!_

_ As soon as we reached their doorway, Aloysia drifted in and promptly shut the door in my face. Shaking my head in frustration, I lifted my hand to knock sharply on the wood. Aloysia opened the door and moved to the side so I could enter._

"Was that really necessary?" I asked bitterly, looking around the large room for my aunt.

"I don't want to hear any of your back talk, Lizzy!" she cried, rising from her massive vanity and turning to face me. Her makeup was only halfway completed, the thick white powder of her foundation covering only half of her face.

"Why am I here?" I demanded, my temper beginning to rise drastically.

"You are here because I need you to accompany Aloysia to Cannes for the season. You are to perform the duties of a personal maid to her," she replied, turning back to her vanity.

For a moment I was flabbergasted. _I'm to do what? _I looked over at Aloysia, who was perched on the small pink couch, picking a large candy out from a nearby bowl. _Only when Hell freezes over._

"I'm not going to Cannes," I stated simply, and began to turn on my heel to leave.

"Oh, yes, you are!" Aunt Maria replied, her voice deadly and soft. Despite myself I turned back to face her. Aunt Maria never spoke softly. She rose from her small chair and paced over to me.

"Do you see this paper?" she asked, fanning a long document under nose. I took a step back, trying to avoid what could be a particularly nasty paper cut. "This is a document that will permanently _relieve _your family from their positions here. All I need do is sign it."

My next cutting remark died on my lips. _How could she do this? And at a time like this!_

_"Madame, I am needed here. I do not have the __time _to take my cousin to Cannes." I replied, my words short and harsh.

"You _will _take Aloysia to Cannes. Cooks and maids are easy enough find here in Paris. Your family would not be missed," Aunt Maria continued, a sick grin spreading across her face.

"This is your sister-in-law! I am your niece! Why are you doing this?" I cried, trying to grab up the paper from her sausage-like fingers.

"Think about it, Eliza. If you refuse this you will be sending your family into destitution. Cabartte has agreed to pay for my darling Aloysia to go to Cannes to enjoy the delights of the Season, and you _will_ accompany her as her maid. Do I make myself clear?" Aunt Maria asked, snatching the paper from my grasping hands and tucking it into her bosom.

Without waiting for my response she turned to Aloysia.

"Aloysia, my pet, you are to write to me daily to let me know how Eliza treats you. And if she does anything at all that is not becoming of her station then you are to let me know and I will personally see to it that Aunt Jacqueline and her daughters are fired."

In desperation I gave Aloysia a pleading look from behind Aunt Maria. But she merely nodded her agreement, smacking on her large toffee candy contentedly. _This wasn't happening! I'm dreaming! I must wake up!_

_"That is all, Eliza. Aloysia is leaving tomorrow morning, so I suggest that you pack your belongings. Oh, and I need you to wash these clothes for her," Aunt Maria said, shoving a large bundle of dresses into my arms._

"Aunt Maria," I began, but she swiftly cut me off.

"Not another word or I'll have them thrown out this instant!" She yelled, gesturing for me to leave. Wordlessly I turned on my heel and dashed out of the room, my tears beginning to fall freely down my face. _This can't be happening!_

_As soon as I reached the safety of the kitchen I tossed all of Aloysia's dresses down and flung myself into a chair, sobbing uncontrollably. Going to Cannes meant that I would be gone for the better part of two months. Two whole months away from my family, away from Erik, and away from my dear, dear Madeline. __If she even has that long, _my mind whispered treacherously. 

I was crying so hard I didn't even hear the kitchen door swing open quietly.

"Lizzy?" Madeline's soft voice called. I looked up at her, hastily wiping some of my tears away.

"Oh, hello dearest," I said, trying desperately to keep my voice calm. She looked much paler then she had the day before, and, I noted worriedly, her cough had reappeared with a vengeance. After she finished coughing she turned to look at me again.

"What's wrong? Has Aunt Maria said something to you again?" she asked, her eyes taking in the cut on my cheek.

"She…she wants me to go to Cannes with Aloysia for the Season," I replied, burying my head in my hands.

"Cannes?" Madeline began, her small brow furrowing. "But, why? I thought that Aunt Maria hated you?"

"She does. She's doing this as some sort of punishment," I said bitterly, turning to look at my small stepsister. "How are you feeling?"

"My cough is back," she replied, moving to sit on the stool next to me. "Madame Giry has removed me from class completely now."

"Oh, Madeline!" I cried, wrapping my arms about her. "I'm so sorry. But perhaps rest will do you some good."

"I hope so. I hate feeling left out," Madeline said sighing heavily, which brought on another coughing fit. I held onto her frail shoulders trying to keep her upright so she could get enough air. Then, to my horror, I began to cry once more.

"Lizzy, I'm alright! There's nothing to be sad about. I'm sure it's just a cold," Madeline said, her thin arms hugging me tightly.

"I know. I'm sorry, I'm just upset about Cannes," I lied, moving to stand. "I'm sorry if I distressed you. Tell you what, tonight let's get all of the family together to read," I replied, the idea suddenly popping into my head.

"Oh, can we really?" Madeline cried, clapping her small hands delightedly.

"Of course! It will be my goodbye present to all of you," I said, kissing the top of her head. "But now, I need to go and pack. I'll come back around lunch to do the laundry."

I moved slowly down the hallway, sidestepping the stagehands as they made their way to the kitchen for breakfast. My whole body felt numb. I barely even noticed that I'd finally reached my room. Shaking my head at my inattention I quickly turned the knob and let myself in, pausing to lean heavily on the door, resting my head on the cool wood.

_Damn it! Damn this whole situation!_

_I moved away from the door and pulled my massive trunk out from under my bed and began to fling my belongings into it. Dress after dress and shift after shift were thrown carelessly into the deep trunk. It was the perfect outlet for my pent up anger and I gave myself into it fully, loosing all track of time and of what was going on around me._

Needless to say, I didn't hear the panel slide back.

He grabbed my arm roughly, halting it in mid-fling. Horribly startled I immediately went into flight mode, trying to jerk my wrist out of his viselike grip.

"If you insist on breaking your wrist I suppose there's nothing I can do to stop you," Erik replied coolly, his blue eyes gleaming with something that was akin to amusement.

"Let me go," I cried, trying once more to wriggle away from him. Immediately he released me, dropping my arm as if it had burned him.

"As you wish," he replied, turning to leave.

"Why are you letting this happen? How could you? Is this part of your plan, Erik?" I cried, moving to stand in front of him, blocking his way. Erik paused, looking down on me incredulously, his lips set in a grim line.

"You can't pretend that you didn't know this was happening!" I cried, taking a step toward him. Instantly Erik stiffened, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Erik! How could you? How could you be so heartless?" I yelled, grabbing the edges of his cloak, lifting my face up to his.

"Heartless? I think not my dear," Erik began, his voice low and deadly. Suddenly he twitched his cloak out of my grasp and moved swiftly toward me, forcing me against the wall.

"Your Aunt Maria was prepared to throw you and your family out immediately after you insulted Cabartte yesterday," he spat, his fist lashing out to slam into the wall beside my head.

"And who stopped her? Me!" He yelled, pinning his other hand against the wall, effectively trapping me against him. Trembling, I looked up at him. His blue eyes were flashing, and his teeth were bared in a horrible snarl. Suddenly the full weight of his words crashed down on me.

"You…you did what?" I asked, my anger dissipating. "Why? Why would you do that?"

"Believe me Lizzy, I wish I hadn't," Erik growled, lowering his head, his thick chestnut hair falling about his face and mask.

"I don't understand," I said again, still trying to comprehend why Erik had suddenly taken such a major step in helping my family.

"It wouldn't be…helpful to me if you were to be dismissed. However, I had to buy your aunt off somehow. This was the only way," he said, his teeth clinched.

I shook my head at this sudden burst of generosity, and tried to hide my small smile of pleasure.

"Thank you," I said tilting my head up to his. With a snarl Erik moved away and threw himself into a nearby chair, his hand resting on his temple in his frustration, his breathing low and heavy.

With a small sigh I moved back to my packing, this time taking more care to fold some of my nicer evening gowns. It was quiet for a long time, and I soon managed to push Erik from my confused thoughts and began to try and put some plan together on how to return to Paris before the Season ended.

I only paused when I heard Erik rise from his chair. For a moment we just stared at one another, as if daring the other to make the first move. Finally, Erik walked over to where I was standing. My heart began to race, beating frantically against my chest when he rested his hand on my collarbone, his fingers cool against my warm skin.

Soon I was gasping quietly under his touch, and I desperately tried to quell my rising urge to pull him to me. Trying to think of something, anything, to distract me I recalled Sophie's request.

"Will…will you teach Sophie again? I believe that she misses your lessons," I asked quietly, suddenly not wanting to meet his eye. _Was it really over a year ago that we'd been arguing over this very subject?_

_Erik didn't answer, but his hand slowly began to run up my neck, causing me to roll my eyes back with pleasure. He continued this gentle motion, his hand hovering over my throat, only touching enough to send shivers up my spine._

_"Erik? Will you teach her?" I asked, trying to curb my reaction to his touch._

"Yes," he replied, his voice distant, his hand coming to cup my chin, forcing my gaze to his. His eyes were dark, almost animalistic in their hungry look and my lips hesitantly parted. I swallowed heavily licking my lips slowly and his eyes instantly followed the movement and his long arm came around my back, pulling me toward him.

"Keep your eyes and ears open, Lizzy," Erik said softly, his tone rich and musical. He ran his fingers down my neckline once more, eliciting a small moan from my lips. He smiled then, his lips curving sensually, eyes gleaming.

"Do try and stay out of trouble," he finished, and without another word he moved away from me, and I was left gasping at the sudden loss of his touch. With one final smirk, he activated the switch on the panel and drifted into the thick darkness beyond my wall.


	53. Preparations

**I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter! Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews (keep it up!) and special thanks to bastinterest for another stupendous editing job!**

**Erik**

Elizabeth's dratted Aunt had proven herself to be worse then useless to me. She flatly refused to move against Cabartte. And Cabartte was steadily becoming a torn in my side. He knew that I was pulling DePerix's strings and somehow he must have realized that I would try to bring Maria back under my grip again as well.

I had listened quietly outside the small office that Maria was granted under her new position as "Head Maid" to her heated discussion with Cabartte.

"I don't know what you want with that damn girl! She has threatened to expose you and she has a will of iron," Maria had screeched, her voice echoing annoyingly about me.

"Then she must go," Cabartte had replied swiftly, his large face turning a deep shade of red in his anger. I narrowed my eyes at his response. _Elizabeth Brett will go wherever I choose, not you, __monsieur__. _

"Besides, it might be easier to convince her if she is outside of the opera's protection," Cabartte finished, clasping his palms together, a grin spreading across his face. "Oh yes, much easier indeed!"

"On another note," Maria began, tossing her heavy head proudly. "The Brett family has been flirting with disaster for months now! The eldest daughter, Renee, has been making advances with DePerix youngest son. She must go as well."

"It might be best to send all of them out. Yes, draft up the proper documents. We will send them packing tonight," Cabartte finished, rising to stand and gesturing for Maria to follow him.

"Now, let's discuss your dear Aloysia's, trip to Cannes," he drawled, leading her out of the room and out of earshot.

I leaned against the wall behind me. _Lizzy was becoming a bigger issue then she was worth. _If I could just manage to convince Maria Mason of her _usefulness_ then perhaps I could buy her some time. Suddenly, an idea hit me. _Yes, _I thought, a smirk stretching across my lips, _this will work very well indeed. _

The letter fell lightly onto Maria's small desk, the death's head gleaming in the dim gaslight. Now, all I needed to do was to wait.

An hour or so later I had watched with satisfaction as Madame Mason's face grew pale, her hands shaking, her eyes peering about the room worriedly. I don't think I've ever seen a woman of her size move so quickly, still clutching the note tightly to her.

Lizzy, as I had expected, was not in the least bit thrilled by my suggestion. But it had managed to buy her family time. I had not intended to tell her of my involvement in the plan, or my calculated move to save both her and her family. However, the moment she had so passionately accused me of being "heartless," I found that I couldn't restrain my anger.

She had paused then, her bewilderment written all over her delicate features. And as soon as she looked up at me with such unabashed _gratitude _I instantly made to pull back from her. Angrily, I flung myself into the small chair by her bed, running my hands through my hair in my frustration. For some time I sat there, trying to justify to myself why I continued to give a damn about what happened to her or her family.

Unable to stand my warring thoughts any longer I rose to leave. The instant I shifted, Lizzy turned to me, her brilliant green eyes rising to meet mine. I felt myself drawn to her, like some distant lodestar, pulling me irresistibly forward.

My hand reached for her long neck, and I nearly groaned at its warmth. Her skin was as smooth as silk beneath my fingers and I found that I couldn't get enough of it. Her voice was like a distant echo to my ears. _Teach?_

"Erik, will you teach Sophie?" she asked again, trying to pull herself away. Suddenly snapped out of my stupor I looked at her. Her green eyes were shimmering darkly, her small chest heaving with her quickened breathing.

"Yes," I replied absently, watching her delicate, pink tongue make a sensual pass over her lips. I raised my hand to her chin and ran my fingers over her neck once more, trying to ignore her moan of pleasure. I wanted nothing more then to take her again.

_How the devil had this woman done this to me? _

I left her with a quick word of warning, hoping that for once she would err on the side of caution while she was away.

**Elizabeth**

As soon as I had finished packing I hurried back into the laundry room, determined to finish my chores as swiftly as possible. Aloysia's dresses were the first to go into the steaming vat of water. If I played my cards right with Aloysia, I might just be able to convince her to allow me to come home early. There would be plenty of maids at the hotel where we were staying and she could have her pick from them for the duration of the Season.

I worked rapidly, hardly noticing the scalding water as I scrubbed my way through the pile of clothes. Soon, the line outside was filled to the brim with shirts, dresses, and pants. As I finished hanging the last of the petticoats on the thin wire I watched the late evening sun sink beneath the top of the opera house, the warm, pink rays bathing everything in an ethereal glow.

A low scraping sound interrupted my peaceful revere. I turned on my heel, fully expecting to see Erik standing there. But there was no one.

The large stables had dimmed into a forbidding darkness and hesitantly I moved to peer into the inky blackness. My boots tapped softly on the stones and I reached out to grab the small lantern that I had thankfully brought out with me.

My hand had just closed around the small metal handle when a rough pair of hands grabbed me. In my panic I dropped the lantern, cutting out the only light source available to me.

Instantly, I began to kick and struggle against my invisible assailant. As soon as my boot made contact with a pair of legs, the hands released me. Gasping, I tried to move past but I found myself gripped tightly again, and was shoved roughly into one of the stalls.

I tried desperately to wiggle my way out of this terrifying stronghold, but his grip was too powerful. My captor had pulled back from my kicking feet and soon had me pinned to the back wall.

"Stop it! Stop it!" I finally screamed, hoping that my pleas would reach someone.

"That's right," his voice was rough but the instant it reached my ears, I knew with out a shadow of a doubt who was accosting me. _Cabartte. _

"Let me go!" I screamed again, my panic rising. I twisted against his hold and began to try and kick at him again.

"It's always nice when they put up a fight," Cabartte, continued his breath hot on my cheek. "But this might not be so bad after all. You might even enjoy this; now be still." One of his large hands released me and began to grope at the shoulder of my dress. The moment I felt his hand leave my arm I began to fight against him violently, but to no avail, his grasp was too strong.

I heard my dress rip and felt Cabartte's large hand pull against the open fabric, exposing my corset.

"There now," he began, his fingers beginning to pull on the long strings that held the thick whalebone together.

"Help!" I screamed and was instantly stifled by Cabartte's hand grabbing my face roughly, causing my head to hit the wall viciously. Stars sprung up before my eyes and I slumped forward heavily.

There was a loud scraping noise as the heavy door of the stall was flung back with brutal force. Cabartte turned to face the noise, letting go of my shoulders. As soon as he let me loose I scrambled past him, my vision blurry.

"Who the devil is there?" Cabartte yelled from behind me. But whoever had decided to rescue me remained silent, and Cabartte began to yell again.

"Who is there? I demand that you show yourself! Do you have any idea who I am?" His voice was raspy in his obvious shock. Slowly, I made my way back out into the dark stable-yard tripping over my discarded lantern. I raised my arms in front of me to break my fall, when suddenly another pair of strong hands lifted me back to my feet.

The rich smell of incense filled my senses and I gladly allowed Erik to gather my trembling form to him. His hands were surprisingly gentle as he lifted me into his arms and wordlessly he carried me toward one of the large stalls, pausing only to flick the mechanical switch that would lead us into his dark world of passageways.

His steps were silent as he walked through the hallway but I could feel his intense gaze on my face. Despite my efforts, tears began to fall down my face and I buried my cheek against his shoulder, shuddering with my emotions.

Erik halted and reached out to push the panel that led to my small bedroom open. He swiftly stepped into the room and tenderly deposited me on my bed and turned to sit in a nearby chair, running his fingers through his thick chestnut hair.

"You must be careful, Lizzy," he said softly. I whipped my head up to look at him. _How am I not being careful? I don't have the luxury of being able to hide behind secret walls whenever I choose!_

"How am I supposed to predict something like that, Erik?" I snapped, my hurt and fear giving way to anger, an anger that instantly turned on him. "Do you think I want to be assaulted by Cabartte? Do tell me, Erik, how am I supposed to be _careful _about that?" I sat up, furiously wiping my tears away from my face.

For a long moment Erik was silent, his face as hard as his mask, his eyes burning into me. He seemed to be fighting with himself; half of his body prepared for flight, the other determined to stay.

"This has happened before, Elizabeth. You must learn to be aware of your surroundings," he replied coldly.

"What am I supposed to do?" I cried, burying my face in my hands. "I'm a maid. The man can do what he wants to with me!"

"I'm not denying that fact. I'm telling you to keep your eyes open. If you are unprepared for - "

"How am I supposed to _prepare _myself for something like that?" I cut him off, rising to my feet in my fury.

"Elizabeth, sit down," Erik replied dangerously, moving to stand. "You've hit your head. It won't do to have you incoherent in the morning."

"It won't do?" I snapped back, taking a step toward him and suddenly finding the world spinning about me. I staggered back, my hand groping for something to help me keep my balance. Immediately, Erik's strong hands pulled me to him and he gingerly lowered me back onto the bed.

"Stay still," he said, his voice low.

"Why is this happening to me? And, why did you help me?" I asked, looking up at him. "I thought that - "

"I don't know," Erik replied simply, his voice soft. He was clearly puzzled by his actions. He slowly raised his eyes to mine, and I suddenly found my heart pounding wildly against my chest. His eyes were a light blue, shimmering slightly in the dim light. For a moment we just stared at one another.

"Thank you," I said quietly, turning my face from his, tears beginning to fall down my cheeks. Erik's gloved hand reached out to wipe away a few of the tears and I leaned into his cool palm.

"You _must _be careful," Erik, whispered, his voice thick with some emotion. Gently, his pulled his hand away from me and rose to his feet. "Lay down for a few hours," he continued, turning back to me for a moment. I looked up at him, his whole body seemed to be slumped forward and I found that I wanted nothing more then to pull him back to me.

"Erik," I called softly and he slowly raised his eyes to mine. The blue orbs were gleaming with what looked like pain and I felt my tears rising again. I turned my head away and heard his low sigh as the panel smoothly opened on its small track.

His rich sent slowly dissipated from the room and I shivered. I turned back to the empty corner where he once stood. _Please, Erik, please don't do anything careless while I'm away. She doesn't love you, but, for some reason, I do. _

**Erik**

It had taken all of my strength not to kill him. I could feel myself burning with my intense rage, my clinched fists itching to fling him off her and rip him to pieces before my eyes.

It had been a pure accident that I found myself wandering about the stables. As soon as I left Lizzy in her room I had wandered down to my home, wanting nothing more then to drown out my conflicting emotions in my music.

I depressed the keys roughly beneath my fingers, trying to will the notes into my very being. A few hours later I disgustedly threw the musical score that I had been working on away from me.

Music had never before failed me. It had never left me alone, never refused to be molded under my willing hands. But, for the first time, my music denied me comfort.

Silently fuming I entered my bedroom, pausing only to pick up my violin, tuning the thin strings under my long fingers. _How could this affect me so much?_ _Is it really possible that I care for her? Is it possible that – No! Her departure will give you ample time to begin the plan. _

Now, here she was, not even out of the safety of the opera house, and under the threat of rape from that bastard. Clinching my teeth I decided to focus my aggression on the large stable door beside me. My gloved hands gripped the wood tightly and I pulled back, hearing the ripping metal hinges pull apart loudly.

Cabartte instantly stopped his assault, wheeling to peer into the darkness. Out of habit I moved my body further into the welcoming black. His large face was slack in his shock and I took a calculated step toward him, pulling my Punjab lasso from the inner fold of my cloak. _With him dead half of my troubles will be over._

I hadn't expected Lizzy to come tearing past me. Instantly, I replaced the lasso and turned to follow her. Cabartte had hit her head roughly against the wooden back of the stable and if she didn't stop moving soon she would collapse.

Night had fully descended over Paris, but my cat-like eyes soon made out her slight form in the darkness. Then suddenly she tripped and I hurried over to her, pulling her shaking body close to mine. Somehow, she seemed to recognize me, her small arms clutching at my shoulders frantically.

I could hear Cabartte's courage beginning to rally once more and quickly bundled Lizzy into my arms, sweeping towards the safety of my hidden panel. As soon as we were in the narrow passageway I turned my head to study her trembling features. Her eyes were misted over with her unshed tears, and her face was deathly white. Lizzy seemed to sense that I was peering at her and pressed her face against my shoulder, her sobs racking her willowy form.

The moment we entered her room she went on the attack. Somehow, I managed to contain my own anger as I tried to calm her. But, Lizzy was having none of it. Then, out of nowhere, she asked the question that I had been trying to fathom for months now.

"Why do you care?" she asked, her voice breaking under her tears. I looked up at her, self-hatred coursing through me. _Why do you care, Erik? She's not Christine. She should mean nothing to you._

"I don't know," I replied softly, watching her face wilt under my callous answer. She had thanked me, but I wanted nothing more then to be as far away from her as possible. _This woman will drive me mad!_

That evening I decided to travel down towards the kitchens, hoping to sneak some food for my small pantry. After three years of bending and scraping for the smallest scrap of nutrients, I hated finding my larder empty. To my surprise all of the Brett family seemed to be gathered in the large space. I moved to stand behind the large mirror and slowly tried to take in the quaint domestic scene that was before me.

Lizzy was walking slowly around the kitchens with her elder step-sister, hanging wet garments while her step-mother was reading some of Shakespeare's sonnets aloud to them. Sophie and Madeline were sitting contentedly in front of the large fire, their heads close together, listening intently.

I remained behind the mirror for some time. The sonnets soon switched to some of Emily Dickenson's dark poems and I found myself enraptured by their easy companionship. _This is a family, _I thought bitterly, unwittingly recalling my own mother in my quiet reverie. _This, is something that I can never have._

Silently, I moved to walk back towards my home. _You will never belong. _My mind chanted endlessly, echoing my dull footsteps on the stone.

Later that night I found myself in Lizzy's small bedroom once more. Her white cat greeted me silently, its purrs rumbling deep in its chest as I sat down on the chair, moving my newest composition onto my lap.

Lizzy was curled tightly under her thick blankets, her long hair falling softly about her. Despite my best intentions, I reached for one of the thick waves, pulling it tenderly through my long fingers. Lizzy stirred at the movement and I allowed my fingers to trace the contours of her face.

She moaned softly, moving her body unconsciously toward my hand. With a low sigh I removed my hand and picked up my pen, trying once more to compose. The notes came to me slowly and I dutifully took them down, trying to wash Lizzy, and the events of the day from my mind.

Lizzy began to stir around four in the morning and I swiftly made my exit, letting her white cat drop unceremoniously from my lap. My feet were beginning to take me toward my subterranean home once more when a thought crossed my mind. It had swayed Christine to me. Perhaps it would also remind Lizzy to remain loyal to me on her trip abroad.

*******

Lizzy was too busy directing the coachmen on where to place Aloysia's multitude of trunks to notice my gloved hand alighting stealthily over small bag.

I dropped the fresh rose onto her trunk delicately, watching the black ribbon flutter in the fall, before landing on the handle. When Lizzy turned to collect her belongings she looked at the small rose, puzzled by its sudden appearance. She lifted the delicate rose to her, one of her fingers lightly tracing the long ribbon. One of the coachmen stepped toward my hiding place and I instinctively moved further back. To my astonishment, Lizzy caught the minute movement of the light and looked toward me, a knowing smile spreading across her lips.

Satisfied that my message had done its work I moved back into the opera house, making my way towards the large rose window that overlooked the small square. I wove my way past the multiple beams and finally reached a small spot where I could easily look out the window.

A few hours later, the small carriage wound its way around the square and slowly rolled out of sight. I leaned heavily against one of the beams, a deep pang of – _remorse_ – washing over me. Giving a low sigh I tenderly pulled a long envelope out of my vest pocket, admiring the wax death's head. I smiled grimly at the little skull, and turned my thoughts to this new plan, successfully quelling my tumultuous emotions. _It was time for my Angel to return to me. _


	54. Arrangements

**Thank you Dancingpuppy1014 for reviewing! And special thanks to bastinterest for another wonderful editing job during her crazy week!**

**Erik**

It had taken me months to find out where the young Countess De Chagny now lived. At first I had tried sleuthing out the information myself, creeping out of the Opera House during the dead of night, trying to find the small apartments where that simpering fop had resided while he was in Paris for the winter Season.

When I was younger I had dared to travel most of the world, using my training as a magician and the sickening allure of my deformity to provide me with some semblance of an income. But, during those short excursions on the cold Paris streets, I soon found that I had grown too accustomed to living my life as a recluse. Even with my felt fedora and cloak hood pulled low over my face I still shuddered into the shadows whenever anyone came too close.

I discovered the Hotel Gaillon on my second trip. Slowly slinking into the dark shadows I examined the large building. It was a quaint hotel, the white marble holding various potted flowers that were just beginning to wilt in the nipping air. I made one final pass around the clutch of buildings, wanting to be absolutely certain that this was indeed the Vicomte's final residence before his flight with my Christine.

Circling back to the entrance I paused again, trying to gather my courage. Hunching my cloak higher on my broad shoulders I took a step into the street then stopped. I gritted my teeth in frustration, disgusted with my cowardly behavior. I must have stood on that street corner for hours, but to no avail. Even knowing that no one would be in the small lobby at this hour didn't sway my stubborn instincts.

It infuriated me to be so incapacitated. Finally, I gave up and walked swiftly back to the opera house, only slowing when I reached the entrance to my home. Crawling back into the darkness like a dumb beast, too terrified of human contact to even find a solution to my problem.

At one point I had thought about sending Lizzy into the hotel in my stead, but knowing her inquisitive nature and her tenacity in solving anything that puzzled her, I immediately curbed those thoughts and tried to find someone that I could easily manipulate.

His name was Joseph Cheever and he loved money and morphine. He was an easy target for me, hardly even a challenge, really. A few simple notes filled with 200 francs soon had him completely in my power. As for the morphine, it was always easy enough to come by out on the streets of Paris and I made sure that he never wanted in petty cash for it. In return he made several visits to the Hotel Gaillon and had soon discovered that the fop had spirited Christine away to New York for their honeymoon.

This information threw a heavy loop in my plans. For months I seethed, trying to think of something, _anything _that would help me to reach my little angel. But the Atlantic soon proved to be too far of a distance for any of my notes to travel without certain discovery. So, I switched my plans over to Maria Mason, convincing her that if Cabartte would send for Christine then I would gladly turn myself in to the authorities. Cabartte, it seemed, was very taken with this idea and soon had opened up a line of communication with the De Changny's. Then things rapidly began to fall into place, but, just when I was certain that Cabartte would send for Christine, Raoul made his little visit to the Opera House.

Then Lizzy began to get in my way. So much so, that I soon let the leashes on both Maria and Cabartte slip from my grasp. Things soon began to grow rapidly out of my control and I realized that I would need Lizzy to help me discover their new motives. To my utter amazement, she had risen to the task beautifully, and despite myself, I soon realized that I had started to trust her. I had even started to desire her, not just as a confidant, but also as a man of flesh and blood.

So much so, that I lost sight of Christine.

But the moment Cheever left the small note outside La Carlotta's changing rooms telling me that Christine and her husband were coming back to Paris for the spring I instantly pushed Lizzy from my mind.

I walked over to the small vent outside of Peter De Perix's room, making sure that no one was inside. Once I was certain that he had left for the morning I quietly pushed the large mirror aside and cautiously stepped inside. He had left one small taper candle burning on a small table beside his unmade bed and I decided to leave my note there. I pulled the long envelope out of my vest and placed it gingerly on the wood, fingering the creamy paper before gliding out into my passageway again.

*****

"Renee, Renee," Peter De Perix cried, pulling his young fiancé into the room beside him. "Renee, look at this!"

"What is it, Peter?" Renee DeFlur asked, her dark eyes questioning.

"This is a note from a very well meaning gentleman who wants to help us!" Peter said, hugging Renee to him. I sneered at their open affection. _Why do you have to make a damn game out of it, boy? Just tell her and be done with it!_

"Gentleman?" Renee replied, taking the note from his fingers and quickly scanning it. At first her face lit up with excitement, but when she read the final words she quickly paled, her mouth pursing primly.

"25,000 francs and he'll talk to father about our marriage!" Peter cried, once more taking her into his arms. "My love, all of our problems are solved!"

"Who sent this?" Renee asked, handing the note back to Peter, moving to sit on his unmade bed

"I have no idea. It was just sitting on my table when I walked in this evening. Honestly, Renee, you don't seem the least bit excited," Peter replied, coming to sit next to her. I narrowed my eyes at the young woman. She wasn't blood kin to Lizzy, but no doubt Lizzy has had some influence on her.

"It's just so sudden. And how does he know about our engagement? I haven't even told Lizzy or my younger sisters about it yet," Renee said, smoothing her periwinkle blue dress nervously.

"Oh Renee," Peter said, a note of exasperation creeping into his voice.

"No, Peter," Renee replied, pulling herself away from his reaching arms. "I want to write Lizzy. She'll know what to do."

I nearly collapsed against the wall. _Damn that woman! Even in Cannes she's still managing to wreck all my plans. _But, I couldn't help the smile that began to creep across my lips.

"How will Lizzy know what to do?" Peter asked, rising to his feet, my letter still clutched tightly in his hands. "I know you look up to her and she's very experienced about some things, but what does this have to do with her?"

"Lizzy will know Peter," Renee said, walking over to him and wrapping her long arms around him. "Besides, it will give her something to ponder over! I'm sure she's dying for some sort of amusement."

"Just be quick about writing to her," Peter replied, kissing Renee lightly on the lips. I quickly turned away, unable to watch them any longer. I slowly walked down the passageway trying to think of another way to convince Peter De Perix to send my letter to Christine. _Perhaps if I can talk to him alone…_

A week passed. I watched with an amused eye as Renee wrote her letter to Lizzy. No doubt my little maid would be furious to know that I was yet again using her family to advance my plans, but far away in Cannes she would have little say in the matter. But I knew that I would have to act fast to counteract Renee's letter. This plan would fall through if Lizzy managed to convince her stepsister to not go through with my little bargain.

Peter De Perix was crossing the main staircase one evening when I decided to confront him about my letter. Luckily, most of the staff was in the auditorium watching the two new tenors vie for the part of Hercules for the upcoming performance of _Ercole su'l Termodonte. _Peter, to my delight, was completely alone.

"Have you decided to act on my note, Monsieur?" I asked, careful to throw my voice beside his ear. With a small cry of alarm, Peter turned, his eyes scanning the room swiftly.

"Who are you? Show yourself!" Peter asked quietly, a new bravado entering his voice. I sneered at his false show of courage.

"Do not question me! I can offer you marital happiness, but I can just as easily crush you both. Now, what is your decision?" My voice drifted lazily about the staircase, sometimes echoing right in Peter's ears, sometimes wafting from the balconies above and below him.

"Mademoiselle DeFlur has written to her stepsister. I will have your answer as soon as we receive her reply," Peter replied, a tremor of unease shifting through him at my threat. _Better._

"There is no time for a response. I need your answer now," I replied, impatience making my voice harsh in the large space.

"But, Monsieur!" Peter cried, his voice rising to a pitch much too loud for my liking.

"I need your answer. I will talk to your father tomorrow night. I need to know if I will be convincing him or dissuading him about your upcoming marriage," I snapped, letting my voice drift directly in front of Peter's face, causing him to stumble back a few feet.

"All you need me to do is deliver that letter?" Peter asked incredulously, backing into one of the banisters, still trying to determine from the source of my voice.

"Yes," I stated simply. "Do you accept?"

"I do," Peter replied, swallowing thickly. "But what should I tell Renee?"

"Tell her anything you wish," I replied, taking my carefully written letter from my breast pocket. With a careful flick of my wrist I tossed the letter beside his feet. Peter instantly bent to pick it up and swiftly tucked it into his pocket. "Do as I say and everything will go smoothly for you and your betrothed. But, if I find that you have disobeyed me then you will find that I can make your life a Hell on earth," I finished menacingly.

With a low gulp Peter immediately hurried down the stairs and flung open the doors that led to the small square. I looked out of a nearby window, and was able to just catch sight of him dashing towards the heart of the city. I swiftly got to my feet, pressing my gloved palms together and touched the edge of my chin, a small smile pulling at my lips. _Christine. _

By no means was I expecting an answer. Besides, how would she address such a reply to me? _Please post to the supposedly dead Opera Ghost; you know the one that almost destroyed the place five years ago. _

No. I only wanted Christine to know that I meant her no harm. I wrote eloquently but with scribbling words that were shaking and messy, nothing at all like my perfect penmanship that she had known as a chorus girl.

_I am dying. I would like to hear you sing one last time. Please come to me. Please come to your Angel of Music one last time._

Nothing her simpering _husband _could say to her would dissuade her from obeying that pitiful plea. Christine would come. All I needed to do now was to wait.

It was a restless two weeks for me. Finally, in an attempt to distract my fevered mind from my darling angel I resumed lessons with little Sophie. She was overjoyed to hear my voice calling to her from her small mirror once more, her tiny hands clapping with delight. Her enthusiasm was very different from Christine's reverence. For Christine, our meetings had always reminded me of confession, a dark secret that was to be told to no one else, and a quiet salvation that the two of us forged together out of our music.

Sophie, on the other hand, was a talkative little creature, forever asking why when I stopped to correct her on her form or a missed note. She wanted to dissect the music, to understand its inner workings, not just appreciate its beauty and simplicity.

The lessons that I held with Sophie helped me to pass the time, and they also brought me in closer contact with Lizzy's small stepfamily. But often I only had eyes for Madeline.

The small child was weakening by the day, her face growing thin and haggardly, her dark curls hanging limply about her shoulders. I had seen consumption take many lives during my travels, but it was always shocking to see it ravage someone so young. Madeline's cough now began to spurt up the telltale flowers of blood, the deep red shining brightly on her small handkerchiefs.

One afternoon, while I was waiting for Sophie to appear in the kitchens, Madeline slowly walked in from the stable yards, a letter clutched tightly to her chest.

"Mama! Sophie! Renee!" She called weakly, a sudden cough overtaking her the moment she finished. I winced at her visible pain. _She doesn't have much longer. _

"Darling, what is it?" Lizzy's stepmother Jacqueline swiftly came from the laundry room, wiping her wet hands down on her apron.

"It's a letter," Madeline finally replied, her coughing spell subsiding for a moment.

"From who, dear?" Jacqueline Brett asked, helping her frail daughter into a chair before turning to put on a pot of tea.

"Lizzy!" Madeline cried, a smile beaming across her pale face. My ears perked up immediately. _So, my little Elizabeth had finally deemed it appropriate to write. _

"Oh, how wonderful!" Jacqueline replied. "I will go and fetch Sophie and Renee. Wait here my darling and don't move. I don't want you coughing again."

Madeline sat quietly in her chair, her head bowed over the envelope, tracing the writing on the front. Suddenly another coughing spasm hit her fragile frame, leaving her trembling in its wake. I furrowed my brow at her hunched form. _She needs to be in bed._

"Lizzy's letter!" Sophie cried, flinging open the large kitchen doors, Renee and Jacqueline hot on her heels.

"It's taken her forever to reply," Renee said, coming to sit by Madeline, kissing her tenderly on the forehead.

"Aloysia most likely takes up most of her time with demands. I'm surprised she's even had time to write at all," Jacqueline replied, pouring three cups of steaming tea and passing them out to her clutch of daughters.

"Open it, Madeline," Sophie said, cupping her hands around her warm mug and inhaling the aroma deeply.

"I don't think I can read it aloud though," Madeline said quietly, bowing her head with disappointment.

"Here," Sophie replied, taking the letter gently from Madeline's hands. "I'll read it. You need to drink your tea."

"Ahem," Sophie began with a flourish, knocking some of her ringlets over her shoulders. Almost unwittingly I leaned closer to the mirror, wanting to catch every word.

"Dear Mama, Renee, Madeline and little Sophie. Wait, why am I always last?" Sophie paused, pouting her lip out.

"Sophie, dear, if you can't read it then I will," Jacqueline chided, arching a warning eyebrow at her youngest daughter.

"Oh, all right," Sophie huffed and flicked the letter back up to her eyes.

"_I hope that everything is well with you in Paris. Cannes, though very lovely, has been a rather miserable trip for me. Aloysia seems intent on making a spectacle of herself in front of some of the younger bachelors that are in town for the Season, and is quick to take her bad luck out on me. So, if you see any letters addressed to Aunt Maria from her please toss them into the fire without delay. I'm willing to pay handsomely for this as a further means of bribery! _

_I hate to be terribly dull, but there isn't much else to tell. Sadly I've been cooped up inside this hotel day in and day out so I haven't had much opportunity for sightseeing. And though I would have a wonderful time filling this letter with my lamentations, I shall save all of my horrid experiences in my memory so I can tell you all about them at a later date. _

_Now, Renee, in response to the letter that you sent me a few weeks ago, I don't think that Peter would necessarily be harmed in going through with this "gentleman's" plans. In fact he might be able to do some good where De Perix is concerned. However, don't get too caught up in what he's doing. It might not be beneficial in the long run. If either of you two catch a glimpse of this mysterious note sender, be sure to tell him that he needs to be careful not to over reach his bounds, especially concerning our dear patron Cabartte. _

_I send my love to all of you, especially dear little Madeline, and good luck with the upcoming opera! I hope to be home soon. _

_Love,_

_Lizzy_

"Who is this gentleman, Renee?" Jacqueline immediately asked, but I didn't bother to wait for Renee's response. I moved away from the mirror, shaking my head in disbelief. _She wasn't the least bit concerned. She even had the gall to warn me to be careful! _

I quickly moved past the wooden panels until I began to reach the stone passageway that would lead me further into the bowels of the Opera House. It unnerved me that Lizzy had responded so calmly to my advances with her future brother-in-law. Where was her predictable anger, her cutting remarks, or warning to stay as far away from me as they possibly could?

I had been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn't even realize that I was now standing right in front of the wooden panel that led to Lizzy's tiny bedroom. I leaned back against the stone wall for a moment, trying to fathom my surging emotions and thoughts. Suddenly I found it very frustrating that Lizzy wasn't here, that she wouldn't be knitting or reading in her room, or cleaning on the staircase. She was an easier enigma to comprehend when she was readily available for questioning.

Sighing loudly, I flicked the small switch that activated the panel, listening to the thin metal scrape its way along the track. Lizzy's small white cat instantly pounced about my boots, mewing softly for me to give her some attention. I gently scooped the cat into my arms, one of my gloved hands running slowly down her smooth back, eliciting low purrs.

I paced about the room for a few minutes, still trying to comprehend why I was so shaken by Lizzy's response. My boot echoed dully on the old wood and I soon found the noise very irritating to my sensitive ears. Detangling the purring cat from my arm I placed her onto Lizzy's blue blanket and was about to pull back when my eyes suddenly caught sight of an old, tattered book sitting on the edge of her pillow.

Carefully, I pulled the weathered book into my hands, flipping open the pages delicately. I had seen Lizzy reading this book before, many times, in fact.

_"It's the Old Book. We've had it in our family for generations. My father used to read to me from it."_

The pictures in the book had long since begun to fade into lighter shades, but the words were preserved perfectly, the ink still shining brightly from the pages. I flipped through a few more pages and had just started to close the book when I heard something drop from one of the inner pages. I knelt down and picked up what looked like a small piece of paper. There appeared to be something written on it.

_Elizabeth age 17 with Will age 22_

Instantly I flipped it over. It was a small photograph with a large tree in the background. There was a young man with dark hair peering over a young girl's shoulder, his arm resting around her neck in a friendly hold. My eyes moved down to the young girl. There, staring defiantly out at the camera, was Lizzy. Her long hair was draped loosely over her shoulders, her hands propped on her hips. She looked so _young. _

I ran my finger over her figure before I tucked the photograph into my cloak and swept out of the room without a second glance.

*****

It was dark when I emerged into Madeline's room. She had a small window that over looked the square and the moonlight was shining brightly through it, casting the room with an otherworldly glow. Out of habit I glanced about all the corners, making sure that I wasn't compromising myself by entering.

All was quiet and empty. Madeline lay on her bed, her head propped up with several pillows, her small breaths rasping loudly in her chest. Silently, I walked over to her bedside, dipping my hand inside my cloak to pull out the small amount of medicine that I had concocted earlier that evening.

Madeline's pale face gleamed in the moonlight, and I noticed the dark circles that were beginning to cast their shadows under her eyes. Uncorking the bottle, I poured a small amount into the spoon that I brought with me and lifted it up to her lips. Gently tilting the spoon I let the liquid slide down her throat slowly.

The moment she felt the spoon touch her pale lips she opened her eyes, the blue orbs feverish. Madeline began to pull away, but I placed my hand behind her tiny neck, holding her still until she finished the spoonful.

"Who…who are you?" she asked fearfully, shrinking away from me.

"My name is Erik," I said softly, beginning to fill the spoon with more of the medicine.

"Oh, Lizzy knows you," she replied, suddenly relaxing.

"She does," I confirmed, lifting the spoon back to her lips. She looked at it hesitantly for a moment, but swallowed it willingly as soon as she realized I wasn't going to back down.

"How long have you known her?" Madeline asked, resting her head against the headboard while I continued to fill the spoon.

"About two years," I replied a bit more harshly, hoping to dissuade her from asking any more questions.

Madeline was silent for a few more spoonfuls, her eyes following my every move. The bottle was almost empty when she began to speak again, her voice very low and hoarse.

"She loves you," her words were simple, and not wholly unexpected, but for some reason they shook me to my core. I was silent for a long time, wanting nothing more then for her to finish her dose of medicine and escape.

"You don't love her?" Madeline asked once I removed the spoon for the final time. I took a steadying breath before I looked up at her once more. Her blue eyes were slowly beginning to haze over with sleep, but she seemed determined to get an answer out of me.

"You don't love her?" she asked again, leaning towards me.

"No, I don't," I replied coolly, rising to my feet and tucking the empty bottle back into my cloak.

"Then why are you helping me?" she asked, her voice barely reaching my ears. "Why help Renee and Peter? I think you're ashamed to admit the truth. Even if you don't love her, you care enough about her to worry about us. She might not be what you were expecting, but it doesn't hurt to broaden your horizons sometimes."

I paused at the wall, resting my hand heavily on my mask, rubbing my temples. _Pity has never gotten you anywhere, Erik._ _But, _a small voice in my head called, _what if she's right? No, _another voice answered, _Christine is coming. Elizabeth is not Christine. _

"I will be back in the morning to give you another dose. This should help you sleep more comfortably for the time being," I said, my voice low. I was about to open the mirror when I heard Madeline's voice again.

"I'm dying, aren't I?"

I turned to look at the small, frail child on the bed. Her long black hair was matted around her damp face and she looked as brittle as a rag doll.

"Are you frightened?" I asked, quietly moving towards her again.

"No," she said softly, looking down at her hands. "But, I do want my sister."

"I can fetch one if you'd like," I replied as gently as I could, hoping that she only wanted Sophie and not Renee.

She turned to look up at me again, her blue eyes beginning to close despite her best efforts.

"I want Lizzy," she finally managed, before her small head dropped forward onto her chest, her breathing calm and slow. I came to sit next to the small girl again, lifting my hand to her wrist to check her pulse. It was steady but weak beneath my fingers, fluttering like a butterfly's wing. Then with a deep sigh I pulled a small piece of paper out of my vest and began to write.

*****

"Mama! Mama!" Sophie's voice echoed all over the Opera House as she ran to her mother in the kitchens, causing the morning rehearsal to come to a halt. I glanced over my shoulder towards the main hallway and rose slowly from my chair, hidden deep within one of the upper boxes.

"Keep it down out there!" Monsuire Rayer called, waving his small baton agitatedly in the air.

I walked swiftly to the kitchens, following Sophie's frantic cries like a beacon. I reached the large mirror just as Sophie ran in, her face flushed.

"Mama, Mama! Look!" she yelled, handing her mother the short note that I'd left on Madeline's bedside. When I had returned to check on her this morning she was noticeably worse and I made her down the elixir that would help her to sleep quickly.

"Sophie, what is it?" Jacqueline asked, taking the note and quickly reading it. Her face blanched and she looked down at Sophie with amazement.

"Where did you find this?" she asked, resting her hands on Sophie's small shoulders.

"By Madeline's bed. Mama, I think that Madeline is dying," Sophie said, her voice breaking with her tears.

"Oh, my darling, you must be brave," Jacqueline said, wrapping her arms around her youngest daughter. "She wouldn't let me send for her sooner, but someone must be watching over our little Madeline. Go fetch me some paper at once, there's a good girl."

Sophie immediately ran out of the room and Jacqueline sat slowly down in one of the large chairs, trying to contain her own emotions. Once again I rubbed my hand across my temple, and leaned heavily against the wall, remembering how my hand had shaken as I had written the note that I had left for someone to find next to Madeline's sleeping form.

_Send for Elizabeth. _


	55. The Return Home

**Thank you for the reviews Hot4Gerry and DancingPuppy1014! Special thanks to bastinterest for editing!**

**Elizabeth**

"Lizzy! Lizzy, where are my gloves!" Aloysia's yells echoed loudly down the hallway, and I set down my iron with a sigh. The three, almost four, weeks that I'd spent with my younger cousin in Cannes had been, quite possibly, the worst of my life. Each day brought some new gala or brunch for which I had to scrap and scramble to help Aloysia get ready. She was notoriously late to everything, but that didn't seem to be any hindrance to her budding social status and the invitations kept pouring in daily.

"Lizzy!" Aloysia called again, poking her head out of her door and glaring at my slowly advancing form. "Honestly," she began, pouting her dainty lips. "Did you not hear me calling? Mama will not be pleased if she finds out that I missed Madame Brougham's salon."

"Apparently, you weren't as concerned about the salon two hours ago when I asked you to begin getting ready," I snapped, following Aloysia deeper into her suite.

"It's not becoming for a maid to tell her mistress when to get ready," Aloysia replied, flouncing onto her plush bed, tossing her primly curled ringlets over her shoulder. "Besides, I needed to rest."

I opted to keep my next scathing comment to myself, and turned to take her afternoon gown out of her large closet, spreading the fine silk out beside her lounging form.

Cabartte had seen to it that my pampered cousin had wanted for nothing on her first venture into fine and proper society. He had arranged for us to stay at the Hotel Croisette, a beautiful, picturesque building over looking the shimmering Mediterranean Sea front, and had provided Aloysia with several trunks filled to the brim with silken gowns. And despite her newly found, grating self righteousness Aloysia had managed to astound all of the high society women and was well on her way to catching several of the handsome bachelors that still lingered in town.

"Here," I said, holding the dress out to her tenderly, not wanting to wrinkle the delicate fabric. "Slip this on and I'll see if I can find your gloves in one of the drawers."

Aloysia complied wordlessly and gingerly resumed her seat on the bed, taking care not to damage the gown's perfect folds. Once I was certain that she was content to sit sill, I walked over to the chest of drawers and began to rummage around the mass of stockings and shifts, hunting for her best white gloves.

"You should throw that rose out, Lizzy," Aloysia suddenly said, and I turned to look at the small vase sitting on the windowsill. Erik's rose was beginning to loose its vibrant red coloring, but the fragile petals still tenaciously clung onto the stem, refusing to fully wilt. For the first week of my journey I had left the tender flower in my luggage, wanting to press it so I would always have it as a keepsake, but the moment Aloysia caught sight of it, she had demanded that it should be placed in her room. I had resisted, but after several arguments and threats to write to her mother, I had relented. Now, to my disgust, Aloysia seemed perfectly content to throw the bedraggled thing out the window.

"It's not dead yet," I stated sharply, moving back to the dresser to continue my search.

"But it's becoming ugly. You should buy me some flowers in the market today, Lizzy," she replied, moving over to one of the massive windows, peering out at the bustling activity on the streets below.

"Here are your gloves," I said, walking over to her and holding out the pearly material. "You're late."

"Oh! Lizzy, why didn't you say something?" Aloysia cried, suddenly a ball of motion. "Come down with me and call a cab!"

"You can call your own cab!" I cried, exasperatedly. "That's what they pay Jean, the door keeper, to do."

"Elizabeth," Aloysia snapped, planting her hands on her hips. "I am a gentlewoman and you are nothing but a servant. _Do as I say!_"

"I couldn't care less what you say," I snarled, ignoring her cries of protest as I pushed her out the door. "You forget, it would be fairly easy for me to let it slip that we're cousins. Then where would your royal grace be?"

"I'll write to Mama!" she yelled, and I abruptly let loose of her shoulders.

"Stop making a spectacle of yourself, Aloysia," I replied coldly, shutting the heavy doors on her next string of yells. I leaned back heavily against the mahogany, resting the back of my head against the frame. _I'm going to kill her if this continues for much longer. _

I turned my head to glance at the flower resting on the windowsill once more and studied its dark blooms. _Erik._

Renee's letter about their mysterious "gentlemen" had surprised me, but I wasn't entirely caught off guard by Erik's blatant attempts to coerce Peter into helping him. I was more taken aback by his generous offer to reason with DePerix and to flatly _give _them 25,000 francs.

My main worry over the passing weeks had been Madeline's condition. There had been no urgent messages from my stepmother, but I still had an inkling that her illness might take a drastic turn for the worse all too soon.

Sighing, I pushed myself away from the door and walked slowly over to the massive window that dominated Aloysia's suite. The sun was gleaming brightly over the choppy waves of the Mediterranean Sea, making the sky undistinguishable from the turquoise depths below. Several small boats tossed about on the waves, some carrying fishermen, others small parties of nobility enjoying the crisp breeze and sweeping views of the other small islands that dotted the tiny gulf.

It was refreshing to find myself close to water again. During the first few days nothing could tear me away from the windows and I imagined how excited my father would have been to see these beautiful waters. But, all too soon, Aloysia's multitude of events had made sure that I had no free time on my hands to reminisce about the past.

I turned from the window just before a sharp knock came from the double doors behind me. Thinking that it might be Aloysia again, I took my time turning the gilded handle.

"Aloysia, it's really not that hard to –" I began, only to look up and see one of the many porters standing at attention on the plush carpet. "Oh, I beg your pardon," I said hastily, my face flushing. The young man seemed to take no notice and thrust his gloved hand out to me, a small bundle of letters resting in his grip.

"Oh," I said, happily taking them from him. "Thank you." He bowed sharply and turned on his heel, disappearing down the stairs as quickly as he'd come.

I shut the door behind me and untied the coarse string that held the letters together, my eyes scanning for my stepmother or stepsister's handwriting. The first few letters were all addressed to Aloysia in Aunt Maria's scrawling penmanship, and I tossed them onto Aloysia's bed, making a mental note to retrieve them later. Finally, I found a letter addressed to me. My stepmother's handwriting was unmistakable, but it was much sloppier than usual and I quickly turned opened it, flipping the note out.

There were only seven words on the thin parchment. I flung the paper down in my haste and rushed quickly out of the suite, trying to control my panicked breathing.

_Lizzy, _

_Come home. Your sister is dying._

**Erik**

Her condition had begun to deteriorate rapidly over the last few days. It was a pitiful sight to behold, in all honesty. Her skin quickly took on a deathly pallor, and I could clearly see her fragile frame begin to wither away as she struggled for her life. I began to visit her nightly, continuing to administer my cordial, trying to keep her alive at least until Lizzy could return.

A week passed and still there was no sign of Lizzy. My worry for the small child soon gave way to a deep anger that I immediately directed at Lizzy for taking so damned long. Madeline was slowly slipping from my grasp and it infuriated me that there was nothing I could do about it.

Daybreak came slowly that morning, and I quickly walked up to Madeline's tiny sickroom, hoping to give her the last of my medicine before her stepmother came into her. Jacqueline DeFlur was putting up a brave show for her daughter, but I knew that her strong façade was beginning to crumble.

Madeline looked up at me weakly when I entered. She smiled as best as could before closing her eyes, her breathing labored.

"Hello, Erik," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Is Lizzy here?"

"No," I replied reluctantly, gingerly lifting the small bottle to her lips. She obediently parted her chapped lips and drank the last of the medicine. Madeline soon drifted into sleep and I tenderly lifted her wrist into my hands, feeling for her weak pulse.

A low rustling sound suddenly came from the hallway and I swiftly got to my feet, one hand lifting automatically to push the mirror aside. But I paused when I heard shouts coming from the kitchens.

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth, come back here this instant! You've abandoned my daughter in a strange city! Oh, you hateful wretch! Elizabeth!" Maria Mason's screams echoed about Madeline's room and I quickly tucked myself behind the mirror, emotion swelling within my chest at the sound of her name.

Madeline's door was flung open and Jacqueline swiftly entered the room, gesturing for someone to follow her. Elizabeth stepped over the threshold slowly, and walked over to where her stepmother was standing. Her long hair was loose about her shoulders, the waves almost golden in the dim candlelight. She looked positively bedraggled, and yet I couldn't help my sudden intake of breath.

"Is she –" Lizzy began, her voice breaking with her suppressed sorrow.

"The doctor has come and gone. There's nothing else that we can do for her now," Jacqueline replied, cupping Lizzy's cheek tenderly. "I think she's been waiting for you." Jacqueline began to cry, one of her long hands clasped over her trembling lips.

"Oh, Mama," Lizzy said, hugging her to her tightly. I instantly began the long walk back towards my home, unable to stand such raw emotion, unable to watch someone who meant so much to this tiny, broken family, being stripped away from them forever.

**Elizabeth**

It had taken all of the tiny savings that I had thankfully thought to bring with me to Cannes to pay for my train ride back to Paris. The journey home was a blur of random color and sounds to my frazzled nerves. I peered out the small window at the passing farmyards, trying to think of something that would distract me from the traumatic knowledge that my Madeline dying.

Aloysia had declined to return with me, and, for some reason her cool reaction immediately brought me to tears. I wept for hours: I was still crying uncontrollably on the long trek to the train station.

Paris was a very welcome sight. The moment the rickety train rounded the last bend in the track I was on my feet, hurrying toward the nearest exit, ignoring the ticket master's frantic shouts for me to take my seat. Clutching my small trunk, I flung myself onto the platform and hit the cold pavement running, not caring whom I bumped into in my mad dash.

My money was gone, so there was no chance of catching any of the vacant hackney cabs that were stationed all around. Hurrying past the flock of people gathered around the doorways I raced out into the streets of Paris, determined to run the eight blocks to the Opera Populaire without stopping. My feet echoed dully on the cobbles and more than once I stumbled, but I couldn't slow down now, not when I was so close. My stepmother's letter had taken a week to reach me in Cannes and I had no idea if Madeline was still alive.

I almost wept for joy when Opera House loomed into view. As soon as I opened the heavy front doors I flung my trunk down on the marble floor and raced towards the kitchens. Then, to my utter dismay, I ran headlong into Aunt Maria.

"Elizabeth?" she screeched, her fat hands grabbing at me. Somehow I managed to worm my way out of her grasp and ran past her, ignoring her shrill curses and threats.

My stepmother was waiting for me beside the doorway that led to the kitchens.

"Oh, my darling," she cried, pulling me to her tightly.

"I came as fast as I could," I replied, sinking gratefully into her warm embrace.

"Come," she said, her voice thick with tears. "Madeline is this way."

Madeline's room was chilly in the early evening dark, and I shivered when I stepped over the well-worn threshold. Several candles were glowing brightly beside her small bed and I immediately walked over to her bedside, my hands reaching for her.

She had changed so much. Her long black hair hung limply about her shoulders, her skin was deathly pale, and her eyes were rimmed with dark circles. _Oh, dearest! _Gently, I ran my trembling hand over her smooth hair, my tears beginning to fall freely down my cheeks.

"Oh," I cried, burying my face in my hands. "Madeline."

"She's been getting weaker by the day," my stepmother said softly, pulling a chair out for me. "The doctor believes that she's had consumption for some time now. She's –" my stepmother paused, beginning to sob. "She's been asking for you daily. Oh, Lizzy, I'm so glad that you've made it in time. I don't know if she could have lasted much longer."

I stood and walked over to my stepmother's weeping form, wrapping my arms tightly around her. She reached out a warm hand and rested it lovingly on my cheek. For a long while we remained motionless, both of us lost in our own grief.

Madeline woke a few hours after I arrived. I was knitting silently beside her bed when I heard her stir.

"Madeline!" I cried, leaning closer to her, reaching for her tiny, outreached hand. Her blue eyes, normally so bright and clear, were dull, all of the light completely erased. Madeline smiled weakly when she saw me and clutched at my hand.

"Lizzy," she said, her voice barely audible.

"I'm here, dearest," I replied, leaning up to place a kiss on her cold forehead. "Now, I have some of mother's soup for you!" I said, turning to pick up the small porcelain bowl.

"I'm so glad you've come back, Lizzy," Madeline said, leaning back on her nest of downy pillows. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, dearest," I replied, spooning some of the thick broth out and raising the hot liquid to her lips. She cautiously sipped it from of the spoon, and swallowed it, her delicate throat fighting to get it down.

"How are you feeling today?" I asked gently, raising another spoonful to her.

"The same, really," she replied, raising her eyes to mine. I allowed her to finish the rest of the soup in silence, and tucked her blankets tighter around her.

"Would you like for me to read a book to you?" I asked, brushing some of her long hair back from her face with my hand.

"Oh, would you?" Madeline asked, a large smile spreading across her face.

"Of course! And later, Mother, Renee and Sophie will come in and help me to act out all of the characters," I said, walking over to her small bookcase, studying the titles.

"Oh, Erik's been taking care of me while you were away," Madeline said, coughing spasmodically. I wheeled back to face her and waited for her to catch her breath once more.

"Erik came here?" I asked incredulously, moving back to my small chair.

"Yes, and he's been kind enough to give me some of his own medicine. It helps me to breath better when I sleep," Madeline replied, beginning to cough once more. Unsure of how to assist her, I held her shuddering torso upright and helped her to drink some water.

"Well," I said, arching a brow while I placed the glass back on her nightstand. "What do you think of him?"

"He's very contradictory," Madeline began, looking at her clasped hands resting in her lap. "Both frightening and gentle. He seems lost. But he's been very kind to me."

"I'm very glad to hear that he has taken the time to watch over you," I replied, smiling warmly at her before walking back over to the bookshelf.

"I think he does love you, Lizzy," Madeline said quietly. "He's just so unsure of himself that I don't think he really knows how much you do mean to him."

"Well, look at you!" I cried, selecting a novel that Madeline had always loved and came to sit beside her again. "Perhaps you should tell him this?" I teased, tapping her lightly on the nose.

"I tried to," Madeline began, looking up at me sheepishly. "But I don't think he liked hearing it."

"Brava, Mademoiselle Madeline!" I said, grinning at her timid smile. "Now," I began, propping the book on the bed and flipping to the first page. "To more important things! Namely the story of Miss Emma Woodhouse and her very lackluster matchmaking abilities."

"Wait, Lizzy!" Madeline said, her voice raspy in her excitement. "You can only read it if you _promise _to do all the voices."

"Of course I will!" I cried indignantly and cleared my throat dramatically. "Ahem. _"Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence-"_

_*****_

I read to her for hours, ignoring the growing hoarseness of my voice, trying to the best of my abilities to enliven each of the characters in Jane Austen's novel. Madeline had laughed and even worked up the strength to read some of Emma's lines herself, her voice thin and weak. Shortly after dinner Renee and Sophie joined us and soon we were all stomping about the small room, acting out the various adventures described in the novel.

My stepmother came in last, and watched us tearfully, sitting on Madeline's bed, holding her daughter's frail hand in hers. The hours passed quickly and all too soon it seemed Madeline began to drift into a restless doze. We halted our reading session and gathered about Madeline's bed, holding each other close until Madeline at last fell asleep.

"All right, girls," my stepmother began, pulling Sophie's drowsy form off of the bed and turning to Renee and me. "Let's let her get some rest."

"Is it alright if I stay with her?" I asked quietly, helping to pull Sophie to her feet.

"Of course," my stepmother said, turning to hug me. "We'll be down the hall if you need us. Goodnight, my darling."

Renee walked over to Madeline's sleeping form and kissed her lightly on the cheek before walking over to me.

"I'm so glad you're here, Lizzy," she whispered, clasping my hands in hers.

I nodded my response and squeezed her hands tightly, turning to gaze at Madeline's pale face.

Once Renee, Sophie and my stepmother left I allowed myself to sink heavily into the chair by Madeline's bedside, resting my arms and head on the edge of her bed, and fell into an uneasy sleep.

Several hours later I felt a small hand running over my long hair, gently separating the waves. Groggily, I lifted my head to see Madeline's blue gaze resting on me.

"Dearest? Are you feeling alright?" I asked, slowly sitting up and hunting for her small clock. It was around three o' clock in the morning.

"Everything is so cold," Madeline said softly, a lone tear coursing its way down her pale cheek.

"Do you want another blanket?" I asked, beginning to hunt around the edge of the bed for one.

"No," Madeline replied, her voice cracking. "Lizzy? Lizzy, will you hold me?"

"Of course I will!" I cried, lightly moving myself up onto the bed with her. "Do you want me to get Mother?"

"No. I don't want to bother her," Madeline said quietly, nestling her head on my shoulder. "I was so afraid until you came."

"Afraid of what?" I asked, kissing her on her temple.

"Of never getting to see you again. But I know now that death cannot separate any of us, although it feels like it does," Madeline replied, reaching one small hand to me.

"Madeline? What do you mean?" I asked, a deep sense of dread welling up inside my chest.

"I've always been so timid, so afraid of the unknown. I've never been brave like you or Mama. But I think that I can be, I know that I can go ahead," Madeline said calmly, her small face looking up at mine.

"No," I whispered, not even bothering to hide my tears from her.

"I am not afraid. I know that I will see you again and I know that I will always, always love you. It's the only thing that we can really take with us in the end. And it's enough for me to know that I am loved."

"Madeline, no!" I cried, sitting up and reaching to hold her small hand in mine.

"I will miss all of you, Lizzy, and I'll always be with you." Madeline replied, tears coursing down her face.

"What am I going to do with out you?" I asked, tenderly wiping her tears away.

"Live. Lizzy, live for me."

Madeline smiled tenderly and leaned back against her pillows, her light breathing becoming more labored. She turned her head to look at me once more, a small smile spreading across her thin lips and squeezed my hand in hers before letting out one final breath.

"Madeline? Madeline?" I cried softly, raising her small hand to my cheek. A sudden chill came over the small room, and I shivered, curling myself into a small ball at the edge of Madeline's tiny bed.

As if sensing her small daughter's death, my stepmother quietly entered the room, and clutched at her stomach when she saw my prostrate form, trembling and sobbing.

"Oh, my baby," she cried, coming over to Madeline's now lifeless body, stroking her long hair. Then she began to cry.

In that instant I flung myself out of the room, unable to stand the crushing sorrow that was bearing down on me. I knew that it was wrong, I knew that I should have stayed to comfort my poor stepmother, but I felt like I was shattering into a million pieces and I knew that I needed to mourn on my own before I completely lost myself in my grief.

I stumbled into my darkened room and threw myself down on my cold bed, my sobs wracking my whole body. I didn't stir when I heard the panel open.

Erik's tell-tale rich scent of incense and candle smoke filled my senses but for once I didn't turn to him. I just continued to cry, curling myself into a protective ball. Suddenly, I felt him lie down behind me on the narrow bed, pulling my trembling body to him, his powerful arms wrapping comfortingly around me, his chin resting lightly on the top of my head.

Part of me wanted to turn into his unexpected embrace, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to move. Instead I curled my small hand around his long fingers, clutching him to me desperately.

Erik slowly ran his other hand down the side of my face, tenderly stroking my wavy hair. Then, suddenly, quietly, he began to sing.

His voice was both powerful and soothing. It took my breath away. The rich notes ensnared me, and held my shattered emotions together, drawing me to him, creating a deep sense of comfort. An Angel in Heaven couldn't have a voice as perfect as his. And I willingly allowed him to pull me in, to drown in his music and forget everything else.


	56. Aunt Maria's Revenge

**A/N: I'm very sorry for the delay! I went through a minor bout of writer's block after I finished finals, then a neighborhood squirrel decided to chew through our phone line connection, thus killing my internet all day yesterday. Thank you for all of the lovely reviews and special thanks to bastinterest for editing on such late notice! **

**Elizabeth**

_"Lizzy, I want you to live for me." _

I awoke with a sharp gasp, my body trembling with a deep, otherworldly chill from which no amount of warmth could protect me. The horrible memories from earlier in the evening hit me at a full tilt, and I felt absolutely crushed under their imposing and unfeeling weight. _Madeline, my dearest, beloved sister was dead. _

Tears began to fall down my cold cheeks, and I instinctively curled myself tightly into a ball, burying my face into my pillow. For several minutes I was content to drown in my grief, letting it wash over me, smothering and crushing out all of my hope. Then suddenly a thought hit me, and I instantly found the strength to contain my shattered emotions, pulling myself back into the present.

_You aren't the only one who's suffering, Lizzy. Your stepmother and sisters must be grieving as well. Go to them. Comfort each other. You cannot handle this on your own. _

Taking several, steadying breaths I began to turn over, lifting myself up onto my elbow, when I abruptly felt a tugging on my waist. Startled, I immediately looked behind me, my eyes peering into the deep darkness. I could just make out his outline in the gloom.

_Erik. _

He was stretched out beside me, one of his powerful arms resting gently across my stomach, his fingers clutching some of the fabric of my dress. I couldn't help but smile at his sleeping form. I had never seen him so _vulnerable, _or so utterly at ease. His body, which was normally thrumming with an awesome energy, was completely at ease. Everything about him seemed to have sunk into an otherworldly calm. Even the visible part of his face was relaxed, creating a startling contrast with his gleaming mask, still glaring out at me.

I studied him, my eyes taking in every inch of his body, trying to memorize every minute detail. Then, hesitantly, I ran my hand down his face, savoring the feel of his cool skin beneath my fingers.

"_Erik's been taking care of me while you were away."_

I had been completely taken aback Madeline's revelation. Part of me had hoped that Erik would keep an eye on my weakening stepsister, but I had never imagined that he would willingly visit her.

Carefully, I moved my hand up to his thick, chestnut hair, tenderly running my fingers through its silky texture. If I had any lingering doubts about my love for him they disappeared in that instant. Despite all of his bravado I knew that he must harbor some feelings for me. Why else save my family from destitution? Why assist Madeline in her darkest hours?

I leaned down to him, pressing my lips to his cool temple. He stirred at the contact, his arm tightening about my waist. Smiling at his unconscious affection I rested my head softly against his shoulder, deeply inhaling his intoxicating scent. For a few minutes I couldn't bring myself to pull away from him, but I knew that I shouldn't linger. My stepmother and sisters needed me.

Lifting Erik's arm cautiously, I gingerly slid out of my bed and trod quietly on the chilly wooden floorboards, taking calculated steps until I reached the door. Stopping with my hand on the doorknob, I turned to look back at Erik, a rueful smile playing about my lips. Somehow it didn't feel right leaving him alone.

I tiptoed over to my chest of drawers, pulled out a small piece of parchment and hastily scribbled a note across the crisp paper. Erik shifted his arm when I dropped the tiny note in front of him, his brow furrowing at something, matching the grim face of his mask once more.

Then, quietly, I walked out into the dark hallway, taking one final glance at Erik before shutting the door.

*****

Although dawn had finally come to Paris, the sun was trapped behind a sky of steel-colored clouds, casting a heavy gloom over the windows. I walked slowly down the long corridor, trying to suppress my rising sense of loss and remorse. _You must be strong, Elizabeth. Remember your promise. Madeline would not want you to suffer. _

There was a low rumbling of voices echoing from the hallway that led to Madeline's bedroom, and I picked up my pace, immediately horrified that I had spent so much time away from my family.

To my surprise, a large crowd had gathered outside of Madeline's bedroom. Many appeared to be curious staff, but some were familiar to me. Almost all of the younger dancers that were in Madeline's row were clustered together in the hallway, as well as several of the younger stagehands that were playmates of Sophie's.

"Oh, Lizzy!" one of the smallest ballet rats called, wringing her hands. "I'm so very sorry. Madeline was –" Suddenly her breath caught in her throat and she ran towards me, her tiny arms outstretched for a hug. I pulled her into my embrace, smoothing down her gossamer hair reassuringly.

"I know, darling," I crooned, trying to fight down my own tears. "Madeline will be very much missed. But she wouldn't want you to be distraught."

"She was so kind to me. Some of the other girls were picking on me and she told me not to worry about what they said," the small child continued, wrapping her arms tightly about me.

I knelt down in front of her, gently lifting her face to mine.

"There, there, don't cry. I know it doesn't seem like it now, but everything is going to be all right." I pulled a small handkerchief from my pocket, dabbing at her damp eyes. "I promise."

"Lizzy? Lizzy, are you out there?" Renee's voice called to me and I immediately rose to my feet.

"Do you think you will be alright?" I asked, turning back to the little ballet dancer. She nodded and I smiled softly at her and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before walking into Madeline's crowded room.

The moment I stepped over the threshold, Renee dashed over, pulling me into her open arms.

"We were so worried about you," she said, relaxing her hold on so she could look at my face. "Are you alright, dearest?"

I shrugged at her question, unsure of how to properly word all of the emotions that were racing through me. Renee nodded at my glum assurance.

"We all feel the same way, I think. When Doctor Byrne came last week he warned us that she wouldn't have much longer, but it's still such a shock. But you had no idea that she was so ill! Oh, Lizzy, I'm so sorry that we didn't tell you before you came."

"I knew that something was wrong before I left," I said weakly, ashamed that I hadn't taken my stepfamily into my confidence on Madeline's deteriorating condition.

Renee looked at me, puzzled.

"But, how on earth –" Renee began, but I abruptly cut her off, tears beginning to prick at my eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Renee. I haven't been open with any of you lately and I wish that I could go back and change that."

"Lizzy! No, no, dearest! You've done nothing wrong. I think that we've all been distant from one another this year. Don't you dare blame this on yourself!" Renee replied quickly, hugging me to her again. "This is not your fault!"

"But if I'd let you know, perhaps something could have been done for her," I replied, my tears beginning to pour down my face.

"No, Lizzy. Madeline had been sick for many, many months before she told any of us. There was nothing any of us could have done."

"It's not just that!" I cried, pulling back from her embrace. "I shouldn't have left Mother all alone last night! I abandoned all of you, for my own selfish needs."

"Lizzy, stop this! You needed time! Mother understands that, she knows how much you loved Madeline. You had less time with her than any of us and Mother knew that you needed your time to grieve. Darling, you've done nothing wrong."

"I'm sorry," I replied, roughly wiping my tears away.

"Come," Renee said gently, looping her arm in mine. "Sophie and Mother are over here and I'm sure they will want to know that you're all right."

I allowed Renee to steer me towards the corner of the room where my stepmother was sitting, surrounded by a small clutch of people. Madame Giry and Meg immediately caught my eye and I smiled weakly at the two of them.

"Lizzy!" Meg said, walking over to me, taking both of my hands in hers. "I'm so sorry for your family's loss. Madeline will be greatly missed."

"Indeed," Madame Giry seconded, coming to stand next to her daughter. "She was a very talented young lady. But tell me, how are you doing? I know that you were very close to her."

"Better than expected," I replied, pausing to glance over at the small bed where Madeline's tiny body now lay in repose. "Someone was good enough to warn me of her condition and take the time to care for her while I was away."

Madame Giry narrowed her grey eyes at me, and gestured for me to follow her over to a more secluded corner of the room. I immediately regretted my sudden outburst but I knew that it was too late to take it back now. The expression that Madame Giry turned on me could have wilted a whole field of flowers, and I bit my lip worriedly and waited for her to speak.

"How far has this gone?" she asked briskly, her eyes flashing at me dangerously. "I want you to be absolutely frank with me, Elizabeth. I've known Erik far longer than you have and I know of what he's capable."

For a moment I was speechless, my breathing coming in rapid gasps. "I – I don't know what you want me to tell you, Madame Giry."

"I want the truth. I thought at first that he would merely use you in his mindless manipulation of the managers and be done with it, but I can see now that this has gone much, _much _deeper," she replied sharply, stamping her cane on the wooden floor agitatedly.

"I suppose I should start by telling you that I love him," I replied quietly, lowering my gaze to the floor.

"_Love him?_" she gasped, taking a step back from me. "Elizabeth, do you know what this man has done? Or more importantly, have you seen him without his mask? Good heavens, child!"

"Yes," I began harshly, immediately defensive. "I know what he has done, I know what he's capable of and I've seen him without his mask. I love him for who he is, and I don't hate him for his past or his physical deformities. Don't think for a second that I've wandered into his power unwittingly."

"Does he love you?" she rebutted, taking a swift step toward me. "Has he given up Christine?"

"No," I replied, a deep tone of bitterness creeping into my voice.

"Then what are you doing? Erik will not see what he has in front of him, he will only pine for the past and continue to wallow in his obsession with Christine. Elizabeth, this will lead to nothing but heartbreak for you. You must stop communicating with him!" Madame Giry snapped, shaking her head.

"I will not," I said, clenching my teeth.

"Have you considered that this is all just a ploy to manipulate you?" Madame Giry countered, raising herself up on her cane, glaring at me.

"I have, and I don't think that what he's doing," I replied turning from the irate Ballet Mistress. "By no means do I expect you to condone the way I feel about him, but you can't intimidate me into submission! I know that you are worried about me, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart, but this is my decision."

"You are making a mistake, Elizabeth. He will use you and then toss you aside when he gets what he wants from you. You are not Christine, nor will you ever take her place," Madame Giry replied, turning on her heel to exit the room.

I leaned against the wall heavily, both stunned and hurt by her predictions. Contrary to her assertion that I didn't understand Erik's manipulation techniques I honestly believed that I had a very strong grasp on his behavior patterns. I knew full well that I wasn't Christine, and part of me knew that he would never really give up his love for her, but I would never leave out room for hope.

The people who had come to offer their condolences to my saddened family were slowly filing out of the room, and soon it was only my stepmother, Renee, Sophie and myself.

"Lizzy," my stepmother called, gesturing for me to join her by Madeline's bedside. I happily went into her open arms, holding her tightly to me.

"How are you?" she asked softly, stroking my cheek.

"As good as I can be, I suppose," I replied, tilting my head to look at her. Her eyes were red-rimmed with her tears, her face long and drawn. "Oh, Mama! I'm so sorry I left you."

"No, no. I knew that you needed time to yourself. You're fine, dearest," she said, kissing me on my forehead. "But I'm afraid that we must prepare ourselves for Madeline's funeral now."

"Yes," I replied sadly. "Will we be able to move her back to England, or must we bury her here in Paris?"

"I'm afraid that we must bury her here. The doctor warned us that consumption is a highly contagious sickness and we must be ready to bury her as soon as we can," she finished, a sob breaking from her quivering lips. "Oh my, poor baby."

Sophie and Renee immediately came over to where we were standing, all of us huddling together, desperately trying to hold on to our fraying emotions, trying to accept Madeline's death, and the change that it would bring on our lives.

*****

The day passed slowly for us.

My small bedroom was empty when I returned to it and I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of sorrow that Erik was not there waiting for me. I pulled my heavy trunk out from under my bed, searching for the heavy, black wool dress that I had brought with me from England. As I pulled the inky material over my corset I couldn't suppress my tears. The last time I'd worn this dress was for my father and brother's funerals, and wearing it once more was a painful experience.

For once I didn't bother to tie my hair up in my cap, choosing instead to let it fall like an auburn waterfall down my somber back. Madeline had always loved my hair and I didn't have the heart to hide it from view. Smoothing down my dress one final time, I quickly headed back to the kitchens, knowing full well that despite Madeline's death the day's work would not be put on hiatus for us.

As I approached the heavy mahogany doors I heard my stepmother's voice. She was pleading with someone. Immediately worried, I swiftly flung open one of the doors and rushed into the large space.

"Please, Maria! We need the money for her funeral, I'm not trying to take it to use on my own vain purposes! How dare you even suggest such a thing!" my stepmother cried, raising her thin frame over Aunt Maria's larger one. But to my disgust, Aunt Maria only waved away my stepmother's assurances, a wicked grin spreading over her painted lips.

"That _child_, as I'm sure you are well aware, had a contagious disease! Why on earth should I grant you extra money for her funeral? There are plenty of mass gravesites here in Paris. Just have her placed in one of those."

"Maria! How can you even suggest such a thing? She is my daughter, not an unknown pauper from the streets! She deserves a proper burial," she replied, her voice beginning to rise almost hysterically.

"I am in charge here!" Aunt Maria suddenly screamed, taking a warning step toward my stepmother. "You cannot have the funds, and if you dare to go to DePerix over this I'll have all of you thrown out onto the streets!"

"No! Please, Maria! We're your family, for God's sake!" My stepmother flung herself down on her knees, grabbing at Aunt Maria's hem. "This – this is my daughter," she cried, beginning to sob uncontrollably.

"_Get up you fool!" _Aunt Maria screeched, jerking her dress away from my stepmother's hands. In that moment I couldn't contain my growing rage and immediately put myself in between my Aunt and my stepmother.

"You filthy _bitch_," I snarled, taking a calculated step toward my stunned aunt. "Your niece, Madeline, is dead and yet you still stand here trying belittle her. How dare you!"

Aunt Maria's face slackened in her shock, her lips sagging open disgustingly. But she soon found her courage and made a quick move toward me, her hand raised to strike me.

"If you dare to say one more word, Elizabeth I'll have your family packing their bags in disgrace this instant! Don't you dare challenge me on this! And as for you, in light of your abandonment of Aloysia I've already arranged for your immediate dismissal. Now get out of my sight!"

Trembling furiously with anger I immediately raced out of the room. As I ran through the mazelike hallways a sudden idea hit me. I halted my headlong flight and leaned against the wall, pulling some of my hair over my shoulder. _Of course! _Swiftly changing direction I headed for the main entrance and the bustling streets of Paris.

**Erik**

Her room was deathly still when I awoke. I shifted uncomfortably in the naarrow bed and automatically reached for her, only to have my hands touch the cold, empty coverlets in front of me. I rolled onto my back, peering moodily up at the rough ceiling.

_So she's left you. After all you did for her, she just decided to leave without any kind of thank you. Ungrateful little – _My thoughts were brought to a sudden halt when I heard the crinkle of paper. I slowly sat up, turning the parchment over, my eyes quickly scanning over the three words, feeling slightly mollified.

_Thank you._

_Lizzy_

_*****_

I must admit the woman had nerves of steel. And as much as I loathed to admit the fact to myself, I had missed her quick wit. But I soon found my amused attitude dissipating when I heard her aunt's comment about her removal for the Opera Populaire. _No, this will not do._

Elizabeth had stormed out of the kitchens in a fine fury and I resisted the sudden urge to follow her, suppressing my treacherous emotions, furious that I still had to remind myself that she was not Christine. Her damned aunt left the room a few moments later and I swiftly followed her to her office, trying to devise some plan of action.

She shifted her plump body into her over-stuffed armchair, her chubby hands searching for something on her desk. Tossing papers left and right she soon found what she was looking so desperately for, her lips pursing at her discovery. Intrigued, I moved closer to the open vent, quickly scanning the document. To my delight, it was Lizzy's letter of dismissal. _This is almost too easy._

"I would toss that in the fire, my dear," I whispered maliciously, throwing my voice so that it seemed to be right next to her left ear. Startled, she instantly threw herself out of the chair and wheeled around, her narrowed eyes scanning the room.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" she cried, her voice breaking in her panic.

Gently tossing out a small thread of silk from the upper vent I caught the edge of the paper with the minute hook and jerked. The document lurched out of her hands and appeared to float in front of her. Gasping for breath she dashed to the door, a scream breaking from her rouged lips as she darted down the hallway. Chuckling, I pulled the paper through the vent and ripped it to shreds.

The kitchens were in an uproar when I returned to my mirror. Jacqueline was pulling open drawers, searching desperately for any small franc that she could find. Immediately I felt a pang of guilt. My coffers of cash still ran deep and I debated on simply dropping a few hundred francs on the kitchen tables that evening when the door was suddenly flung open.

"Lizzy!" Jacqueline cried, rushing over to pull her into an embrace. "Are you alright? I was so worried when you dashed out –"

"I'm fine," Lizzy replied, her voice trembling. I narrowed my eyes at her sudden change of emotion. Lizzy then pulled a small purse out of one of her pockets and placed it heavily on the table beside her stepmother.

"What is this?" Jacqueline asked, tugging the small drawstrings apart. A glimmer of gold greeted the room and Jacqueline immediately turned to Lizzy.

"Where did you get this?" she asked incredulously. Lizzy shifted uneasily under her stepmother's sharp gaze and bit her lip, her characteristic sign of feeling uncomfortable. I took a step closer to the two way mirror, watching Lizzy's face closely.

"Did you get this from DePerix?" Jacqueline asked, turning back to the pile of francs.

"No," Lizzy replied simply and lifted one hand to remove her small, black bonnet. She paused when she touched the edge of the inky fabric, and turned to look at her stepsisters and stepmother.

"I sold my hair," and with that astonishing comment she pulled the bonnet free. I couldn't restrain my quick intake of air. Her hair, her beautiful auburn hair was cropped to a boyish length that barely reached the bottom of her ears. _God! What has she done? _

Her stepfamily crowded around her franticly touching the newly shorn locks and I suddenly found that I couldn't suppress my laughter, or my admiration for the slight young woman standing defiantly in front of me.


	57. An Old Friend

**A/N: I am very sorry for the delay in posting this chapter, my computer finally gave up the ghost and I was forced to toss it. Thank you for the wonderful reviews Kyuubikitsune9, Timeflies, Dancingpuppy1014, TruPhan, Hot4Gerry, and Lady Nightlord! Big round of thanks to bastinterest for editing! I hope to have the next chapter up by early next week. Hope everyone has a great Memorial day!**

**Elizabeth**

"Oh, stop fussing! I'm fairly positive that it _will _grow back," I said reassuringly to my stepmother as she ran her long fingers through my shorn tresses. But she soon gripped my trembling hands in hers, completely seeing through my forced bravado.

"Oh, dearest," she began, tears beginning to mist over her bright eyes. "Thank you for this."

I nodded at her words, my own sudden tears rendering me unable to reply to her heartfelt gratitude. Renee and Sophie huddled around the two of us, both of them looking at my cropped hair in shock.

"Lizzy! What have you done to yourself?" Renee chided, giving me a watery smile. "You look positively boyish!"

"Perhaps it will become the new fashion," I replied in mock annoyance, lifting my chin in defiance.

"I hope not!" Sophie cried, reaching up to feel what was left of my hair. "How are you going to put your hair in your cap now?"

"I daresay I won't be needing my cap for awhile," I replied with short laugh. "Besides, if Aunt Maria has her way, I doubt I'll have my position to wear it to."

My stepmother smiled sadly and gently cupped my cheeks, kissing me lightly on my forehead.

"There, there," she said, running a comforting hand over my hair. "I'm sure everything will work out. For now let's just focus on taking things day by day."

"Yes," Renee seconded, sighing heavily. "Aunt Maria will always have her schemes."

"Speaking of, has DePerix or Aunt Maria stipulated a particular day they want us to arrange for Madeline's funeral?" I asked, moving to sit on one of the nearby stools. For a moment there was silence as we all looked to my stepmother who looked back at us wearily, shaking her head.

"Not yet, although I'm sure we shall find out the answer soon enough. I doubt they will give us much time. Aunt Maria is petrified of catching Madeline's illness and has already made it plain that she wants to bury her as soon as can be," my stepmother replied, stepping over to the large fireplace to remove the steaming tea kettle.

"Should we hold her wake tonight then, just in case?" I asked quietly, watching absently as Renee and my stepmother prepared four cups of tea.

"Yes," my stepmother replied, her voice breaking slightly. "Yes, I suppose that would be for the best. I'm afraid that we would be severely pressing our luck if we asked Maria for a day off to prepare Madeline for burial."

We fell into a solemn stillness, each of us sipping at our tea, lost in thought. I let the piping hot liquid flow swiftly over my tongue, hardly noticing it as it burned the roof of my mouth. I glanced over at the small bundle of francs that I had received for my hair, silently praying that it would be enough.

As predicted, Aunt Maria soon bustled into the kitchens telling us harshly that we needed to have Madeline buried by the early afternoon tomorrow. My stepmother visibly wilted under her heartless announcement, and it took all of my energy not to launch myself at my horrid Aunt.

I had hoped that she would simply leave after her quick speech on lower class burial practices, but to my utter dismay she called for me to follow her out into the hallway. Grinding my teeth in annoyance I did as she requested, taking great care not to work myself up into a temper. As soon as the kitchen door shut behind me, my aunt wheeled around to face me, her rouged face turning an unseemly purple.

"I don't know how you've managed to worm your way into his confidence, but I am warning you now, if you continue to play this game you will lose!" she whispered harshly, bumping her massive girth into me. Stunned, I looked up at her, my puzzlement written plainly across my features.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, moving away from her heaving form.

"That damned _Phantom! _I know now that you are in cahoots with him. Why else would he save your job? But mark my words, Elizabeth, you'll regret this association! I've already warned Cabartte of your _allegiance _and he is most displeased! I dare say that you won't be in his good graces much longer!" she cried, pacing up and down the hallway in her agitation, her breathing coming in short spurts.

"_Madame_," I began slowly, trying to push down my sudden terror, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, you don't, do you? Well, we shall see, won't we?" Aunt Maria replied, stepping uncomfortably closer. "This Phantom, of whom you say you know nothing, is a sick, violent old man who is using you to do his bidding, and if you continue along this line then I will make sure that you will fall with him. Cabartte is already moving against him, and it's only a matter of time."

"You are mistaken," I snapped, a cold sense of dread washing over me. "You are the one who is being used and manipulated, so I'm not sure that I see your point."

"Ungrateful wretch," she snarled, her fat, bejeweled fingers reaching for me. "How dare you speak ill of your betters!"

"_You_ are not my better," I replied coldly, turning on my heel and beginning to walk down the hallway.

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth, come back here this instant! I'll ruin you! I'll ruin your whole family! _Elizabeth!_" Aunt Maria's screams echoed loudly after me, but I didn't pause. I knew that if our argument continued along this dangerous path that I was susceptible to compromising Erik's delicate position. Internally, however, I had already reached my panic level. Erik, as I was now well aware, would simply brush off this new threat, but something told me that Aunt Maria wasn't bluffing. I still didn't understand her relationship with Cabartte, but I could feel in my very bones that the stakes had just been raised, and this game that we were all ensnared in was about to turn deadly.

After I had finished mopping the main hall and wiping down the multitude of railings, I quickly headed to the laundry room, determined to finish several loads of clothing before our wake for Madeline. I scrubbed the soiled clothes at a furious pace, my hands chapping from the heat of the boiling water and lye soap, but nothing could slow me down.

Once I had finished wringing out several petticoats I called into the kitchens for Sophie to help me hang them on the vast array of clothing lines that I had strung about the stable yards. I kept a close eye on her work from the laundry room window, but I found that I didn't want to venture out into the yard if I could help it. My memories from Cabartte's attack were still fresh in my memory and I had no desire to press my luck, especially after Aunt Maria's sudden outburst.

"Girls! Girls, it's time to come inside for supper!" Renee called, poking her dark head out of the kitchen door, scanning for us in the early evening gloom.

"Coming!" Sophie replied, quickly running the last of the vests out into the yards, her feet pounding furiously on the cobbles. I paused to arch my aching back, pressing my palms heavily into my lower waist. There was still a massive pile of laundry to finish, but I felt satisfied that I had at least made some progress.

I stepped back over to the large vat, pulling out my long wooden stirring stick, and waited for Sophie to return, stretching my tired arms. Finally, I heard her swift feet and turned to smile tiredly at her. Gesturing for her to step ahead of me, we both entered the bustling kitchens.

I paused to help my stepmother pass out the evening bowl of soup and bread before heading back to my room. The wake would begin immediately after supper and I knew that I needed to prepare myself mentally for this final farewell. I excused myself from the kitchens and slowly made the long trek down the deserted hallway. Everything was silent and still in this lonely corner of the opera house, and for once, I was happy for the solitude.

After firmly closing the door behind me, I swiftly began to light several of my taper candles, comforted by their soft, glowing light. Moppet danced about my feet, her sleek body rubbing against my heels. Once I had lit the last taper I bent to pick her up, cradling her warm body in my arms. Stroking her velvety fur I stretched myself out on my bed, content to sit in silence, remembering.

I gazed absently up at my plaster ceiling, studying the thick cracks that ran across the surface like a network of veins. I had long since accepted her death, and I knew that she would not want me to be distraught for her sake, and yet, I couldn't quite quell my trembling hands or the sudden waves of sorrow that frequently passed over me._ My dearest, Madeline._

Moppet squirmed in my arms, mewing to be put down, and sighing heavily I released her. She padded across my wooden floor until she reached Erik's hidden panel, rubbing her milky-white head against the frame. Propping myself up on my elbow I eyed the small cat curiously. _That's odd._

"Erik?" I called quietly, my eyes and ears straining for any sign of him. But there was no answer. My shoulders slumped in disappointment. I leaned back against my headboard, tears beginning to prick at my eyes once more. _Erik, _I bemoaned silently, wanting nothing more than to feel his warm arms around me once more.

And yet, as I gently wiped my newly fallen tears from my cheeks, I could have sworn I heard a faint sigh coming from the thick panel.

Madeline's room was ablaze with candles, bathing everything in a faint, glowing light. I crossed the threshold quietly, ducking behind the small group that had gathered about my stepmother and took a quick look around the space. The large mirror that dominated the corner of her room was covered with a thick black cloth and all of Madeline's possessions were blanketed with a thick mass of flower petals. Her small clock had been halted at seven, the large black hands stilled and quiet. Madeline herself was still resting on her bed, her tiny, white arms folded in repose. I slowly walked over to her bedside, softly running my hand down her cold cheek.

"Lizzy!" Sophie called, hurrying over to my side, wrapping her arms about my waist. "Do you like my flowers? I picked them this morning at Le Bois."

"They're very lovely," I replied, kissing the top of her head. "Madeline always loved yellow and red."

"I'm going to miss her," Sophie said quietly, pressing her forehead against my shoulder.

"We all will," I replied, looking down on Madeline's pale face. "But Mama didn't want this to be a sad night! Nor, I would wager, would Madeline."

Sophie nodded, lifting her bright blue eyes to mine. We were silent for a few moments, both of us lost in thought. I glanced over at where my stepmother was standing trying to read her mood from her expressions. She looked tired, her eyes dark with circles, but she didn't seem overwhelmed. But I knew that she was adept at hiding her emotions. I was just about to walk over to where she was when Sophie suddenly tugged at my dress, her eyes bright.

"Lizzy! I almost forgot! Have you seen him yet? He was talking to Mama, but he doesn't look like he's over there now," she chirped, craning her little neck to look about the room.

"Who?" I asked, scanning the room with my younger stepsister.

"Oh!" Sophie cried, stamping her tiny foot in annoyance. "He was just there! How beastly of him. I told him that you were here."

"Sophie," I began, but stopped when I felt a playful tug on my shorn locks. Startled, I wheeled around, lifting my hand to my hair protectively. His bright grin hadn't changed one bit.

"_Robbie!_" I grinned, reaching out to feel his broad shoulders, just to make sure he wasn't a mirage. "Oh, my God!"

He laughed at my reaction, his brown eyes gleaming down at me. "Well, well," he began, arching a dark brow. "Would you look at that, still the little imp even after all these years!"

"You're one to talk," I snapped playfully. "If my memory is correct in this, _you _were always the one who insisted on trying bigger and better pranks, damn the consequences."

"Ah," he said softly, smiling warmly at me. "Your brothers were just as involved in those plots as I was."

"Really?" I asked softly, looking over his open face. I had known Robbie for as long as I could remember. He was the same age as my oldest brother, James and eight years my senior, a distance that should have made us incompatible, at least as children, but Robbie had never shunned my presence. Instead, he had often defended me from my elder brothers' teasing as a small girl, and welcomed me into their games, always making sure that I could keep up. But he had left us when I was about seventeen for his father's banking business in London. We still saw him over holidays, but a year before the accident at the factory he had a sudden falling out with James and had abruptly stopped visiting our seaside home. Personally, I was devastated by the loss of a friend who had been a surrogate brother to me, but I hadn't wanted to interfere with James and had let the matter drop. I still deeply regretted my inaction.

Robbie was devastated by my brothers and father's deaths, and immediately rushed down to Dover for their small funerals. He had hugged me to him that chilly morning, begging me for my forgiveness in place of my brothers, his tears falling hotly on my back. Still reeling from the shock of their sudden deaths I had tried to reassure him, telling him that James had loved him, that we all loved him. He had held my cold hands in his and swore that he would always be there if we needed him. And then we moved to France, and sadly I had tucked his memory away, not even bothering to let him know about our sudden move to the Continent. And now here he was, his warm hands still playing with my short waves, his smile broader then I'd ever seen it.

"Robbie," I began, ducking my head in shame. "I'm so sorry that I never wrote to you. Thank you so much for coming."

"Oh hush," Robbie chided, pulling me into a gentle embrace. "Remorse doesn't suit you."

"But how did you find us?" I asked laughingly, knocking his arms away in mock annoyance.

"Father's business has spread to Paris. We now bank on both sides of the Channel and he wanted me to take over his French branches. I've been living in Paris for about a year now, actually. But it was mere chance that I ran into your stepmother at the market. Nearly scared me half to death! I'm afraid I wasn't expecting a hug while browsing through the tomatoes and almost knocked her off her feet. We've been keeping up a correspondence for a few months now," Robbie replied, glancing over at my stepmother.

"And how is business? I know your father always had high hopes for you," I asked, moving over to Madeline's bookcase and gesturing for him to follow me.

"Booming. The French are very careless with their funds and have been clamoring to get accounts with us," Robbie finished, leaning his lanky body against the wall. "How about you? How has life at the Opera Populaire been?"

"Interesting," I said vaguely, pulling absently at my hair. "It's mainly been work, work and more work. Not really much time for anything else."

"I heard that you went to Cannes with your charming cousin. Tell me, how was her royal highness?"

"Ugh," I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Cannes _looked _lovely from the windows of the hotel, but Aloysia, as you know, can be quite a handful."

"At least your horrid Aunt didn't go," Robbie replied, a snide smirk twisting his lips.

"A minor consolation," I replied dryly. "That doesn't stop her from making my life here a living hell."

"So I've heard," Robbie quipped. "According to your stepmother she's been very busy trying to throw you out."

"I'm worried that she might actually have some luck in that someday," I replied sadly, recalling her unnerving threats from earlier. Robbie smiled knowingly at me, flinging one of his long arms across my shoulders.

"Come now, Liz," he said, bending close to my ear. "Cheer up. It's not like you to be so glum."

"I'm glad you came, Robbie," I replied, smiling up at him. "I hope that we'll get to see more of you now."

"Oh, don't you worry about that!" Robbie grinned. "I'll be hanging around so much you'll want to run me off!"

I laughed at his optimistic outburst, quietly reassuring him that we would do nothing of the sort. In that moment I happened to glance over at my stepmother. She was looking at the pair of us knowingly, a small smile passing over her lips. And I suddenly found that I didn't like Robbie standing so close to me.

Madeline's wake continued on into the wee hours of the morning. Most of the people who had come at the beginning of the evening left at around one in the morning, but there were still a good number of mourners still flitting about when the clock outside struck five.

Jacqueline halted her conversation with Renee and Peter and called for everyone to gather in a small circle beside Madeline's bedside. Robbie, to my mingled dismay and joy immediately locked hands with me, his broad fingers tight on mine. Sophie grabbed my other hand and we all turned to face my stepmother.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," she began, her voice breaking slightly. "I would like for us to sing one of Madeline's favorite hymns before we prepare her for this mornings burial," she finished, wiping a lone tear from her face. She nodded to Renee, Sophie and me and we softly began to sing, each of us struggling with our own tears.

_For the Beauty of each hour_

_Of the day and of the night_

_Hill and Vale and tree and flower_

_Sun and Moon and stars of light_

_Lord of all to thee we raise_

_This our joyful hymn of praise_

_For the joy of human life_

_Brother, Sister, Parent, Child_

_Friends of on Earth and friends above_

_Lord of all to thee we raise _

_This our Joyful Hymn of Praise_

We ended the song softly, our voices mingling together, supporting each of us in turn. Sophie squeezed my hand, leaning her tired head against my arm. As the last note wavered in the air I felt a deep sense of peace come over me. Madeline had asked me to live for her and I knew in that moment that I was finally ready to accept her challenge.

Our small group dispersed quietly, and I walked over to my stepmother, who was facing Madeline, wrapping my arms around her neck, resting my chin on her shoulder.

"I love you, Mama," I said, kissing her cheek.

"I love you too, my Lizzy," she replied, resting one of her hands reassuringly on my hand. "I think that Madeline would have been pleased with this gathering."

"I'm sure," I seconded, resting my head against her neck.

"Come," my stepmother said, turning to face me. "It's time for us to prepare her."

She was buried in a small cemetery not far from the Opera house. Sophie had brought some of the flowers that she'd plucked from the park, and placed them tenderly over Madeline's small grave. We watched silently as the small blooms waved in the spring breeze, our arms intertwined, our heads close together, each of us lost in thought.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. I spent most of the morning in the laundry room, scrubbing and washing my way through the massive pile of clothes that were still waiting for me on the stones. Thankfully, Sophie had agreed to clean the stage and main hall for me and soon after lunch I headed towards my room, both mentally and physically exhausted and ready to fall into my soft bed.

My door squeaked as the hinges bent back and I slipped through as quickly as I could, not wanting to alert anyone to my midday nap. The candles that I had set out the night before had gutted into the wax and I blindly made my way over to my bed. I stretched out across the mattress, curling into my customary ball. My eyes had just begun to close when I heard the familiar whoosh of metal running across a track.

Groaning, I looked over to the panel. Erik's powerful form stepped silently into the room, his ebony cloak swirling about him impressively. His ivory mask gleamed in the darkness and I could feel his cat-like eyes raking over my body.

"I am sorry for your loss," he began, his voice rich and velvety. I nodded at his apology, trying to quell my racing heart. _Good God, how does he do this to me?_

"However," he continued, a note of harshness creeping into his beautiful tones, "I'm afraid I don't approve of your association with Mr. Robert Percy."

"What?" I snapped, instantly awake. "Erik, Robbie is a family friend. I've known him for forever. You have no right, no right at all, to tell me that I can't associate with him!"

"You will do as you're told," Erik replied, all of the softness disappearing from his voice.

"I most certainly will not!" I answered angrily, getting to my feet, my hands clenched in fists at my sides. "Erik, this is ridiculous! He was my brothers' closest friends and he's one of _my _oldest friends!"

"And I suppose he also fetches your lost scarves from the sea when they fall in, as well," Erik suddenly raged, taking a menacing step toward me.

"_What?"_ I asked, my puzzlement throwing off my rising anger. "Scarf? I don't understand."

Erik clenched his teeth, his blue eyes flashing dangerously, his gloved hands trembling in his rage. For a moment he looked as if he was going to strike me and I quickly took a step back from his advancing form. The moment I did so Erik's insane fury dissipated, he turned his face away from me so that all I could see was his unreadable mask.

"Damn you," he muttered, swiftly turning on his heel. He crossed the room in three quick strides, his finger striking the invisible switch that would activate the panel with a deadly force. The moment it began to run along its hinges, Erik's long fingers pushed it violently across, the metal screaming at the indignation. He didn't even pause to close it.


	58. Christine

**Sorry for the delay, work has been murder. Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews, Timeflies, Ivac38, LadyNightlord, Hot4Gerry, DancingPuppy1014, and Kyuubikitsune9! Ya'll are the best! Special thanks to bastinterest for editing during her busy week! **

**Christine**

The sun was streaming down into the large parlor brightly, gently dancing across the plush rugs, and bathing me in its languid rays. Sighing contentedly, I placed my well-thumbed novel on my lap and gazed out of the bay window overlooking the bustling streets of Paris. Outside people were milling about in the streets, buying wares or ambling slowly down the cobbles. I leaned closer to the windowsill, resting my forehead against the cool glass, wanting to thoroughly enjoy my first caller-free morning in almost a month.

Immediately after our hurried marriage was made public, people had been clamoring to catch a glimpse of the insignificant Opera Diva that had snatched one France's most eligible bachelors off the market. During that first week, our butler was kept busy admitting the elderly upper-class matrons who pressed around me oppressively; many of them made no attempt to hide their disgust at my lower class origins. Sensing how I was horribly intimidated by the crush of people who flocked to our apartments, Raoul immediately bustled us off to America, hoping that our fame hadn't spread across the Atlantic ahead of us, although, I'm sure that he also wanted to move me as far from Erik's oppressive memory as he possibly could.

Looking back on our first few months of marriage I can't say that I blame him for his overprotection. I was both terrified and hopeful that Erik would find a way to reach me. For weeks I didn't eat properly, wasting down to skin and bone, constantly on alert, terrified of the dark, jumping at any noise. I was slowly falling to pieces. I was haunted by Erik's memory, daily reliving those tense moments in the bowels of his lair, and by night I was reaching and calling out for him. I realized during those dark nights that I hadn't wanted to leave Erik, but I also came to realize that I couldn't survive without Raoul.

During my night terrors he would clutch me to him, constantly reassuring me that he loved me, that he would always protect me. Raoul was like the Sun, and I gladly accepted his sustaining warmth. Erik had been my friend, mentor and father figure, and I willingly orbited around his dark star, constantly relying on him for strength; but I soon realized that Erik's dark love would stifle and drown me in its depths. So in the end I chose Raoul and the light, and agreed to travel to New York.

In many ways the rich bustle of the city helped to heal my fractured nerves. A few weeks after our arrival Raoul coaxed me into going with him to one of the galas at the Metropolitan Opera House. After several attempts to dissuade him I soon relented and steeled myself to take my first hesitant steps into high society.

I was an immediate success. American's, it seemed, loved a good scandal and were delighted by my rags to riches story. Though I've never been gregarious by nature, with Raoul's unflagging love and determination helping me, I soon made several friends and began to move in society with confidence.

For almost two years we were content to call New York home, but we soon found ourselves missing the delicate atmosphere of France. Raoul returned to Paris on business for a few weeks and I felt utterly lost without his guiding presence. I wrote to him daily, begging him to return to collect me and he soon caved in to my desperate pleas.

As soon as we returned to our old set of rooms near the heart of the city, we were swamped with calling cards. For days I felt like I was confined to the small morning parlor, only free to leave when Raoul returned from his club in the early evening.

I leaned back from the window, thankful that no calling cards had made an appearance during the night, leaving me free to wile away the morning for the first time in weeks. A swift knock on the parlor door snapped me out of my reverie.

"Yes," I called, instinctively smoothing my light, muslin morning dress and hair.

"If you please, Madame," the maid Sarah replied, her small head poking around the door, "there's a note that's just come for you."

"Bring it here," I said warmly, smiling at her pale face. Sarah had just joined our household and was still fairly skittish around my husband and myself. In many ways she reminded me of myself when I had first joined the ballet corps at the Opera Populaire and I was determined to make her feel comfortable and welcome.

"Yes, Madame," she chirped, quickly scuttling into the room, her dark dress starkly contrasting with the bright yellow and pink décor. In her tiny hands was a long piece of parchment, carefully folded and sealed. I gently took the worn paper from her hands and thanked her. Flipping the document over, I almost screamed when I saw the gleaming death's head set in wax.

Noticing my sudden pallor, Sarah immediately rushed back over to my side.

"Madame?" she asked, her large eyes looking down on me curiously. "Madame, is everything alright?"

"Yes," I stammered, desperately trying to reign in my warring emotions. "Yes, I'm fine. Bring me a pot of tea, will you? Thank you, Sarah."

She quickly bobbed out of the room, her white cap almost falling from her dark hair in her rush. As soon as I heard the door shut behind her I tore into the letter, quickly unfolding it on my lap. I clutched roughly at my chest when I saw Erik's elegant, spidery handwriting. But there was something different about his script. As I scanned over the brief content it became painfully apparent. _Erik was dying. _

By the time Sarah had returned with a tea tray I felt that I had sufficiently managed to contain myself to talk to her.

"Who delivered this letter, Sarah?" I asked quietly, trying to still my frantic heart.

"I don't know, Madame," Sarah replied, setting the tea tray beside me, pulling one of the fine, china cups over to the teapot.

"Did he leave a name, a card, perhaps? He wasn't wearing a long cape was he?" I asked, realizing too late that my frantic questions would only raise suspicion.

"No, Madame," Sarah replied, looking up at me, puzzled. "He was a tall, red-headed gentlemen. He only stayed for a moment and didn't want to linger. Madame, forgive my forwardness, but are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine, Sarah," I replied, a sudden feeling of disappointment washing over me. "An old friend of mine is dying, I'm afraid. Do let me know when the Comte returns? Thank you."

Sarah nodded and curtsied to me before slowly backing out of the parlor. As she shut the door behind her I felt a very tangible chill enter the once warm room, stifling the bright sunlight, and quickly dismantling all of the walls that Raoul had so carefully constructed around me.

**Elizabeth**

"Erik! Erik, wait!" I cried, completely aghast at the violent damage that he had wrecked on his panel. Not wanting to lose sight of his darkly cloaked form I quickly dashed into the hidden passageway, my boots splashing in the chilled pools of water. I could just make out his powerful figure a few feet ahead of me and immediately reached for him. My fingers closed on his thick cloak, halting his furious flight momentarily.

"Erik, please stop," I called once more, trying to pull him to me.

"It would be most beneficial to your health for you to release me," Erik snapped dangerously, wheeling around to face me, his voice thick with his anger.

Stupidly, I only tightened my grip on the cloak, steeling myself for his inevitable rage. For a moment he remained absolutely still, but I could feel his tension radiating over me, and then he was suddenly against me.

His gloved hands pressed on my shoulders, urging me into the sharp, stonewall. The moment my back touched the stones he moved even closer to him, and I soon found myself trembling, wanting nothing more than to put my arms about him. He smelled like candle wax and rich incense and it suddenly dawned on me just how much I had missed him.

For several minutes neither of us moved. The slow dripping of water and our steady breathing were the only sounds that I could make out. I couldn't see in the pitch-blackness of the passage, but somehow I knew that Erik's long fingers were reaching for me in the gloom. Desperate to feel his touch I took a step toward him, and with that one move rekindled Erik's anger. His hands slammed into the wall beside my head, pinning me forcefully against the wall.

"How," he began, but suddenly stopped, his breathing rasping loudly near my ear. "How dare – how could you – "

"I did nothing wrong," I replied softly, reaching for him hesitantly. "Erik, I've known Robbie since I was an infant. I don't love him in that way, I never have."

Erik's powerful body stiffened at my words. I lifted my face up to his, knowing that he could see me, hoping that he could see the truth in my statement. One of his gloved fingers tenderly ran across my jaw line and I could feel his breath warm against my cheek. My instinctive reaction was to move closer to him, and to my shock he welcomed my advances.

His lips slid down to my neck, running a burning line up to my ear, his hands pulling me to him roughly. My arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, savoring this sudden change. Erik's soft lips paused next to my ear and I turned my head to face him, wanting to feel his lips on mine. He pushed me against the wall, his body resting deliciously against mine. I moaned when he tentatively placed his mouth on mine, immediately pressing myself up into his arms, desperate for him to respond, desperate for him to want _me._

Then, to my delight, he intensified his kiss, and I willingly let myself drown in his sensuality. His gloved hands began to pull on my dress, his hands pushing down the dark lace. I leaned back from his touch, and stilled his snarl of impatience by resting my finger lightly against his lips.

"Come," I said quietly, pulling him with me down the hallway, heading back to my room. Erik paused for a moment, and I could feel his eyes resting on my face.

"It's too cold in this passageway," I continued, stepping towards his hesitant form. "Please," I finished, raising my hand to his warm cheek. "Please stay with me, Erik."

"You're not, Christine," he suddenly said, almost to himself. For a minute I was completely stunned by his wounding comment, when I suddenly realized that this was his mental reasoning for not allowing himself to admit that he wanted me, that he _needed _me.

"I know," I replied, moving even closer to him. "I'm not Christine, I'm Lizzy. And at this moment, Christine doesn't want you, but Lizzy, on the other hand does. Quite desperately, in fact."

I reached for his hand and for the first time in our long acquaintance, he willingly reached for me, his long fingers wrapping powerfully around mine, letting me led him back to my room.

*****

Erik's amorous mood didn't last long. As soon as we had sated ourselves he sank back into his deep seeded resentment of me, and quickly lapsed into a dangerous mood. However, he made no honest effort to leave my room. Rather then slinking back to his underground home, he contented himself with fixing my newly broken panel.

"I don't understand how you can cause so much damage in less then ten minutes time," I said quietly, watching as he dismantled the large slab of wood and refitted it to the metal tracks.

"Would you rather have me take out my frustration on you?" he snapped, his voice low and deadly.

"Perhaps," I began delicately, "it would be more productive for you to learn how to _curb _your anger."

"_Perhaps_," Erik snarled, turning his head to face me, "a vow of eternal silence on your part would be beneficial."

Biting back my snippy comment I nodded back at him, which only seemed to agitate him further. Visibly bristling, he returned to his task, his hands moving swiftly over the thick pieces of metal. Silently laughing at his unending frustration I turned back to my book, leaning contentedly against my headboard.

"My mother had a wicked temper. I suppose I inherited that trait from her," Erik suddenly said, moving to lift the panel back into its track.

"Is she still alive?" I asked cautiously, not wanting to rouse him into another bout of anger.

"Honestly, I have no earthly idea. I despised my mother and she hated me equally. I ran away when I was about nine and never had any desire to return," Erik replied, his voice dark with his suppressed emotions.

"Where did you go?" I asked, a deep sense of pity welling up inside of me.

"I was captured by a band of Gypsy's and forced to perform in a disgusting sideshow for money. My face has earned me a fair amount of money over the years, my dear," Erik said, his tones losing all of their usual beauty. "After I escaped, I must have been about thirteen, I began to travel the world, mainly relying on the crowds that my deformity and voice would draw."

"How did you come to Paris?" I asked, completely astounded by his sudden revelations.

"I have always been fascinated by the human voice, and the newly constructed Opera Populaire seemed to be the perfect home for me. I've never regretted my decision," Erik said, adjusting the panel one last time before reaching for the switch. The moment the tiny strip of metal shot into the wall, the panel slid obediently aside.

"I suggest you get some sleep, Lizzy," Erik said, his voice aloof, his back turned to me. "DePerix is not happy that you've been slacking in your chores, I'm afraid." He made to step into the passageway, his cloak swirling about his shoulders magnificently.

"Erik," I called quietly, and to my surprise he immediately turned to me. His blue eyes met mine, sending a quick shiver down my spine.

"Thank you for taking care of Madeline," I replied, my voice catching as I felt a new wave of tears rise in my eyes. His face clouded over for a moment, and his eyes dropped from mine. He nodded at me and turned to walk into the darkness that would lead him to his home.


End file.
